I know I have said that I will someday write a book of conversations I sometimes have with my husband… aka The Rokstar… But I think there is also a fabulous book just waiting to be written about the shit that goes down here on a daily basis where my kids are concerned…
Everything, in my house, is a joke. Everything. And about 90% of the time… the jokes are at my expense. Maybe I am an easy target, maybe my kids mistake my “I’ve had enough – time to stop fucking with me” smile for the way less threatening “Oh you are so funny” version… I dunno. I have even had to resort to drastic measures to get set some ground rules around here… But still... many a laugh is had in our home at my expense.
From the time, a few years ago, I put My wee-est princess to bed and kissed her darling sweet little face, and then turned to leave the room as she so sweetly said “Good night Mommy, make sure you sleep with one eye open.” and then giggled... (for the record, I didn't sleep much that night... thanks Chucky)
Or the time I send my super hyper and 'bored' boys out to wash my car with the garden hose and a pail of soapy water. I went out to see that they were actually doing as I asked, when my biggest boy threateningly points the hose at me. I said to him “If you spray me with that hose I WILL kick your ass.” Which was promptly followed by a compete and total saturation of my clothes, my hair, and my make-up by the hose wielding little brat. Clearly he knew the odds were in his favour.
Or how about the time the big Princess and I were playing UNO Spin. I was instructed by the stupid spinny thing that I had to continuously draw cards until I found a ‘blue’ one. Well, I am sure all the blue had been removed from the deck as I drew card after card after card… the big princess was anxiously awaiting her turn and still the pile would not give me a blue freaking card as I drew and drew and drew. Finally she blurts out a frustrated... “Ah for fuck sakes!” She was 6. I nearly spit out my kidney.
But most recently was an instant with my boy. He was pushing the limits … goofing around, being crazy and hyper. I was DONE. I said – very sternly “Ryley ENOUGH now. That is ENOUGH. I have had enough, it is time to stop. IT IS NOT FUNNY NOW STOP.” He got all quiet, as he usually does after he’s been scolded, and put his head down, seemingly FINALLY heeding to my request. Seconds later he pops his head up… fingers pulling down is eyes, other fingers pulling at the sides of his mouth, and still more fingers pushing up his nose. He looks at me crossed eyed with his tongue sticking out of his distorted face and says “Is it funny now?” … seriously… The little brat.
Oh… But I too have some claims to fame…!
Like the time I sent the big princess to school all decked out in her freshly washed cute little hoody… little did I know, the dryer – with the aid of static cling - had strategically deposited a pair of my skimpiest unmentionables in the hood of her sweater for her to find in the classroom, with all her friends as witnesses, as she prepared to start the school day. (and another $100 gets added to the ‘for future therapy’ fund)
Or recently the time that I secretly enlisted the help of the boys grade 8 homeroom teacher to assist me in getting the boy to pick his underwear up off the bathroom floor… which was promptly followed by a text from the boy that read ‘WTF?!?!’ 10 minutes into the school day. ($100 in to the ‘fft’ fund)
Or the time I heard the biggest boy stirring in his room ready to come into the hall… I hid in the dark and went “BAAAA” as he entered the bathroom… he nearly wet his pants. ($100 to the ‘fft’ fund)
Or perhaps the time a few years ago when the wee-est princess kept going to an area of the yard I didn’t want her in because I couldn’t see her from where I was working, so I told her to be careful the monsters didn’t get her over there because that is where they sometimes hung out… she stayed in my sight after that… and we had to do the 'protect your room from monsters' ritual every night for a month so she would sleep in her own bed. ($100 to the ‘fft’ fund)
So... Over the years I have learned...
- that I really had no choice but to stop taking myself so seriously.
- that the words “ohhh, when I have kids, my kids will never ever be allowed to….” ONLY come back to bite you in the ass. Hard.
- that the curse… the one put on us by our moms… when she says “Someday, when you have kids, I hope your kids act just like you are acting right now!” … is real, and true, and, in hindsight, should scare the hell out of any self righteous know-it-all-teen… ‘cause reality is, you will get away with nothing. You ALWAYS gotta pay for that shit.
That its the moments
- that each and every moment that you laugh, and the ones that you cry…
- the moments where you have that kick ass parenting breakthrough that you want to proudly tell the world about…
- the parenting moments that maybe weren’t so kick ass and you would prefer to keep to yourself while secretly freaking out that social services are going to show up on your doorstep…
- the moments where you are at the beginning of your rope ... and the moments where you are at the end…
The journey where we are blindly doing the best we can to just keep them alive until they are ready to be unleashed on the world... and hoping somehow along the way we manage to turn these little people that came to us as a clean slate... into respectable adults… as we try to do the best we can figuring shit out as we go.
Each moment good and bad, needs to be embraced and cherished for the lessons and the richness it has brought into our lives.
I have learned that the only way to emerge from this journey without the urge to randomly lick walls, and remain straight jacket free is to always remember to simply just laugh along the way.
I thank my children, from the deepest part of my heart for helping me to learn that lesson.