Red Wine and Potato Chips For Breakfast. No. Not really. Yet. But I am PMS and thinking about it. ARGHHHHH. My kids are making me crazy. Really. Really. Crazy. I get that I am a little bit sensitive and on edge until the hormonal roller coaster settles down...But holy mother of God, my kids are a piece of work. Kids. Plural.
Lets start with James. This morning James had about 10 feet of driveway to shovel of our half a football field long driveway. Really. Just 10 feet. He could not do it. Could not finish. Could not even shovel in a methodical back and forth or up and down motion. He went in circles. It was chaos. Left the shovel in the middle of the driveway and just walked a way to "use the bathroom" (which is an euphemisim for avoiding anyhting resembling work). He then came outside a few minutes later with all his school things and walked down the driveway past the shovel. Uhmmmm, No.
Last Friday it took The Other Mother, Bobby and I a total of four hours to shovel the driveway...while James just sat inside the kitchen in a chair staring out the window. His lawyer and a court investigator were due at the house at 3:00 and at 12:30 in the afternoon we were STILL shoveling. Shoveling for HIM. Clearly the self-sacrificing do-for-others gene of Motherhood has skipped my generation. I don't expect gratitude for what we do for the kids, but I do expect participation. Even half-assed unenthusiastic participation - but participation.
I asked him today why he didn't help shovel on Friday (Friday was his third time not shoveling) expecting him to say some plausible teenage lie like "I had a stomach ache" or "I was worried about my mom or my attorney coming and couldn't concentrate..." So this morning in the driveway I pressed him for an answer - after three replies of "I dunno" I told him to come up with a real answer.
And he did.
"I didn't feel like doing it"
Ummmmm. OK. Thankfully my entire face was semi-frozen from shoveling otherwise my jaw would have dropped. Seriously.
So now I am holding all these icky feelings of wanting to have my own little tantrum and not do a few things because I don't feel like it and maybe have a consequence or two or three like no Wii......ARGH. Not a pretty way to start the day.
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I am quite certain my 12 year old can *sense* when I am hormonal. It seems no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to put on my game face and be outwardly happy- he knows. And pushes and prods and pokes, and ALWAYS on the days I am least capable of handling it.
ReplyDeleteRed wine and potato chips for breakfast sounds totally reasonable to me.
Relocate that snow on his head.
ReplyDeleteno! in his BED!
ReplyDeleteI had to jump over here because of your title...love it! Only I would just need the wine, no chips. lol I try to issue PMS disclaimers to give everyone around me a heads up. So when I do throw my fit, they are prepared and know to give me space.
ReplyDeleteHe sounds a lot like Mr. The bathroom drill makes me crazy too.
Ahhhhhh....the infamous "I dunno!" I hate that one about as much as "I forgot!" May I dunno where the iPod went and I forgot how to do laundry.
ReplyDelete