I think the snow hates me. Or the school district. Or both. Or I just get up too damn early. It is a toss up. Today is Thursday and Thursday is garbage day. Our apartment complex has strict rules about garbage. There are times when I think you really need to have a PhD to take out your garbage. But I digress. One of their rules is that garbage cannot be put out the night before, only that morning. Apparently they don’t feel that is their/our duty to provide an easy food source for the raccoons and deer that live in abundance in the woods that surround the complex on 2½ sides. This is fine, since I tend to agree, but it does make for EARLY mornings on school days. That means the Mama has to get up at 0500,… ! Since I no longer wear a uniform and don’t draw a decent salary, that is too damn early. And the powers that be that decree snow days apparently don’t get up nearly as early as I do. And that just sucks for me. And for the boys, but they are young; they will adjust. But I am old and I won’t. So, I got my butt up and proceeded to shower. Following my usual procedure, I checked again before waking up Children #2-4, and still nothing. They bathed, brushed and dressed and I checked again. Nothing. So I woke up Child #1, who after much bitching coaxing got up and did his thing. And then school was delayed 2 hours. Very helpful. They are all happy about it because it gives them more time to take out all the garbage, which they LOVE to do. Really. Yeah, NOT! All I can say is, thank goodness for coffee.
The Joys of Mothering Boys
I hope you sense the implied sarcasm in that title. Most of the time, love the job, hate the pay. Lately? I think I need a raise. I have 4 boys, each one in a different stage of development. This translates to a special kind of hell for me. Yay.
We have Child #1 in the teenage stage. Because of him, I have learned something about teenage boys. They are just as moody as teenage girls! There is no escaping that. They can be snotty as hell and when you point it out to them, they look at you like you are a flaming idiot. Nothing makes me happier than that. More sarcasm.
Then we have Child #2. At the cusp of puberty, he has gotten to that lovely “I am superior to my younger brothers” stage. He thinks it his sworn duty to lecture them, boss them around, and get them in trouble whenever possible. He talks to them as if they have the combined intelligence of an amoeba and a paramecium. Drives me batty. Short drive, I know. His favorite form of torture with Child #3 is to talk at him under his breath and instigate him. Then he sits back and prepares to enjoy the show. GRRR!!
Child #3 is the needy one and my nagger. If one kid gets/does something, suddenly and he wants it, too. No one can do anything without him having to do it, too. But it doesn’t go both ways with him. He has a fit if someone tries to “copy” him. Can you say contradictory?! And the nagging is enough to make a sane woman crazy, never mind what it does to me. Literally, every few minutes, “Mom, can I,…”. I swear I am going to change my name.
And then there is Child #4, who has recently decided to channel Satan’s minions. Stubbornness comes naturally to him. From his father, of course. But he has begun to take it to whole new levels. And the temper that has come with it? Holy boogers. That is all I have.
I feel like I do nothing but yell and, while I realize that my children think it is a hobby that I enjoy, I do not enjoy it. It is tiring. Especially since it is almost always stuff that they have been told time and time again. Even monkeys can be trained. Not that I am trying to say anything about my children. Because I would never do that. Out loud. Really. I wouldn’t. Much.