Momster had an epic fail at motherhood last night. I mean EPIC. Like serious momsterhood.
As most mothers know…this happens to the best of us.
I sat and started to think about some things, as I sat there, in my “feeling sorry” not for myself but for my poor little monster B man that was probably having nightmares of his crazed, and on the verge of being a lunatic, mother.
In my thinking I started to count the number of days that I have ever been away from my children and I have come to the realization that it adds up to less then 10 days total.
In almost 6 years.
I have had less than 10 days…total all together…without my kids.
And I wonder why I am crazy???
Sure … I take a day every six to eight weeks to have a day in the city to myself but I am talking about a 24 hour period, all at once, of not seeing my kids.
**continues to sit and tries to relax**
Commercial comes on…
It shows this family around the breakfast table all laughing and smiling enjoying breakfast together.
Now I don’t know about you but my morning NEVER looks or even resembles that. My mornings go something more like this….
Alarm goes off and 10 minutes later I shut it off.
I get out of bed and stumble to the shower…unless of course one of the monsters is already up then there is no shower for me. This is also why sometimes I shower at night.
I wake the sleeping trolls.
One of which, like me,
HATES LOATHES mornings.
Of course no one ever wants the same thing for breakfast…I could cook eggs and bacon and they would all want waffles.
30 minutes later we are finished with breakfast and all we had was cereal.
Time to get dressed. Now before you go thinking that I should pick out their stuff the night before…**
rolls eyes** believe me I HAVE TRIED THAT…waste of time…because by morning little monster M wants to wear something different.
Search for shoes…which yes I had them put in their closet upon removal the day before but somewhere in between that time and time to place them on the feet again they have up and moved location. And the time it takes to find them…it mind as well be in another zip code.
Now it’s 10 minutes before we need to get out the door and I am still in my pajamas and there’s still hair to be combed and teeth to be brushed including my own!
Yeah there’s no time for anything but a piece of dry toast in the car on the way to school. Maybe sprinkled with dry oatmeal.
Seriously cooked oatmeal all served at the same time at the breakfast table??? Who does that…if you do ….by all means please let me know in the comments how that is possible?
My life with 3 monsters, all a year apart, is never a moment shy of pure and utter chaos. Now let’s add homework and reading time with little monster B.
I have tried doing his homework when he first gets home from school but at the same time he has been in school all day and quite honestly just wants to come home and play. And I can’t say I blame him because quite honestly 7 hours of school for a 5 year old should be plenty.
Now it’s 4:30 and I have got to start thinking about getting dinner prepared and ready.
Next thing I know it’s time to go through the hour long process of getting everyone bathed…and that’s if everyone is cooperating. Don’t even get me started on the time escape if someone wants to argue about what pajamas they are wearing or if I go to comb hair and suddenly realize that there’s still soap in it. Yes that happens quite often.
Last night after getting everyone ready for bed and there is only 10 minutes left before “lights out” little monster B and I sit down to start his reading. My patience is running on tttthhhhhiiiiinnnn (that’s thin) at this point. We start reading…he starts goofing off…I ask him to please stop and pay attention…continue to read some more…he starts goofing off again…again I warn him…by the 3rd warning I AM DONE. I close the book and tell him to go to bed.
This of course sparks a meltdown. Probably because it’s now after said bedtime and it’s been a very… long… day.
I tuck him it as he is preceding to cry and continue a meltdown about not finishing the book…so I go into my room and shut the door…he begins to whale…I turn up my television…he whales louder….this goes on for a good 15 minutes until finally I had enough…I go into his room…first try to explain to him why I did what I did …still whaling…so then I yell at him to go to sleep and I shut the door while storming off to my room.
The thing is, that since day one I have always given my kids until the count of 3 or 3 strikes and you’re out. And I don’t ever stray away from that plan. They should know by now that if mommy gets to three…there is NO GOING BACK **said in momster voice**. I wasn’t going to give into my son’s meltdown to finish the book when I had warned him during the reading that he was about to hit 3 strikes.
So why does it make me feel like a such a bad mommy?
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