Been having a run of frustrating days, lately. Yesterday, my son’s friend’s bike got stolen from our backyard, which made us all feel just crummy. Then our youngest, who has been on a bit of a tear recently, burst into tears when I reminded him to close the back door. When I asked why he was crying he said;
“Because I’m always in trouble!”
when I told him that he wasn’t in trouble, that he was just getting a reminder, he wailed;
“But I get reminded all the time!!!”
I believe that there is a limit as to how many cross words a six year-old can absorb and our little one has had way more than his quota this week. Which, even if he totally deserves it (and trust me, he does) still sort of breaks your heart.
The house is totally trashed, there is a pile of laundry in the basement as tall as I am and when I went to bed, I spent the entire night dreaming that I had lice. Not surprisingly, I didn’t wake up in the best of moods. I believe my first conscious thought was– “Crap.”
So after a rocky start between the boy and hubby (again, he totally deserved it.) I have decided that today is the day of “YES!” I desire- nay!- REQUIRE, the soothing balm of “yes.” “MOM! Can I go to Mac’s house?” “Yes!” “Mom! can we have ice cream for supper?” “Yes!” “Mom! Do we have to clean our room?” “Yes! I mean, NO! Don’t confuse me!” I can not– not for one more second– be the person who is keeping fun away. The person in charge of chores and punishments and all things boring and tedious and painful. I’m gonna’ cram so much “YES” into this weekend that they’ll be begging to do their chores. Alright, that might be wishing for a bit much, but how nice would it be to spend the day without having to chastise anyone? Doesn’t that sound like a little bit of heaven?
If I were honest, I suppose that I would admit that like all first children I pretty much aspired to be the boss of the world– though only because whatever the situation, my way is clearly the best, most well-thought out and sensible plan for all involved. I never dreamed that once I acquired the supreme authority momdom endowed that there would be such a backlash. These little subjects of mine are downright surly. Their resistance forces me into a role less than that of a benevolent monarch and more like a policeman in full-out riot gear. (Note to self; get more powerful nozzle for garden hose.) This was not what I had in mind at all.
And yes, I know that this is often the role of parents. Hubby and I do not believe in being friends with our children. In the end, it doesn’t serve them to indulge their whims and let them believe that their capricious desires are somehow more important than demonstrating respect for and responsibility to the people around them. But just because they are in themselves a wonder and really, even the little one, good hearted kids, every once in a while they deserve a break. And, dang it, so do I.
So if you need us, we’ll be sitting on our unmade beds, painting the cat’s toenails and eating giant hunks of cheese…oh, wait. That’s me again. Not sure what the kids are going to want to do. But whatever it is, the answer will be “YES!”