let clean up our toys please.......for the eighth time

O.K. so as adults picking up our things comes kind of natural, ( unless you’re a man) Just kidding. But it does come natural to a point. As adults when we get out of the shower we hang up our towel, and put out dirty clothes in the hamper. Or when your done eating you put your dishes in the sink. It’s natural. You know that no one is there to pick up after you and if you let the towel stay on the floor it will get really stinky really quick. But to children on the other hand it does not come natural. In fact it’s just the opposite. A kid will fight tooth and nail not to pick anything up….EVER!
So tonight I am making my usual nightly rounds of dishes, laundry, vacuum, mop and I notice, hard not to, that there is about 150 legos all over my living room floor. Now I know I should be more observant, but dinner laundry and kids got in my way. So I say “who did this”? to my surprise my husband answer, “ Oh Aaron did that like a half hour ago”. so I stare at him dumbfounded. “ you idiot I want to yell at him. Why aren’t they cleaned up. Why must it always be up to me? But I cant say that to him. I love him. So I do ask “well why didn’t you make him clean them up?” I get this look like the one I was just giving him. So now we’re standing there looking stupidly at each other. He says, “ I was busy playing with the kids.” I wanted to slap him so hard. He is a grown man and he didn’t think to clean up his toys. I take a deep breath because I don’t want to yell at my husband in front of my kids. Do you guys think we could clean them up now I need to vacuum. So he gets all the kids involved and they all clean up. Now all of this probably took a minute if that, but it’s the whole friggin idea that no matter what for the absolute rest of my life I will have to be asking someone to clean up after themselves. Really? A grown man can’t even think to clean up never mind my kids.
I want to pack up what’s necessary, with my family and move to some tropical island. We will live in a hut on the beach and sell coconuts to tourists. I can home school, and we will live off the land. I wont have to remind anyone to cleanup toys, because they will not have them here. They will have seashells, and sticks and coconut shells. And what am I going to say “ pick up all the seashells off the front sand dune.” no I wont cause It will be paradise. Heath will never be stressed out from work, and I will relax in the sand everyday with my brown babies and my red 11 year old. Ohh doesn’t it sound divine? No need for bras or pants or any of that. When you go to a party you will never have to ask what is the attire? What else would it be? Your bathing suit and a sarong. Hello!?! It’s frickin paradise.
But we all know none of us will do that. No one has the Gaul to pack up and go, it’s so scary out there. Out in the unknown, where would you live? What if everyone there hated you? What if no one liked your coconuts? That is what kids feel everyday. Everyday is unknown for kids, what is the boy in class is mean again. When will I get a glass of milk next, when is dinner? Why do I have to pick up my toys? Parenting is all about taking a step back and realizing that kids are unsure about everything. They don’t know when dinner is because they cant’ tell time, and if you say few minutes they don’t know how long that is, so they will just keep asking. They don’t understand why they have to clean up their toys, they just know its boring. So as parents we need to do a lot of explaining and talking and nurturing, and loving and hugging and kisses, and calming, and reassuring to our kids that we are hear for them, to listen to them even if they aren’t getting the right question across. "when is dinner"? isn't just that, it's my tummy hurts and i'm really hungry and what is a few minutes?  well i'm going to try to listen to the real question next time.  and not get upset when they ask over and over agian.......I siad i'll try

It's not fair, Well no i guess it's not

Sometimes I feel like a child. I just want to stomp my feet and scream it’s not fair!!! Cause it’s not. Life is so not fair. Whether it’s not being able to have a turn on the swings at the very second you want one, or if it’s the fact that all of my children have lost a parent. Each one of them. That’s not fair! They are all loved so much but still the loss will always leave a scar on their heart. Knowing that your biological parent either couldn’t have you, or didn’t want you? My heart breaks everyday for my babies. “It’s not fair” I want to scream at the world. To bring pain to my kids. How dare they. Those biological parents. They make me so angry sometimes. Today especially. Somedays I rationalize all of it. The kids are better off this way, with two parents that love them so wholly and unconditionally. But somedays it boils my blood to think that these people are out there living there lives, with new people and new kids. Why do they get to do that? Why do the next kids get feel the touch of their bio-parents hand and not my child. It’s not fair!!! So when my four year old cries because it was her turn next on the slide and someone cut in front, I will feel her pain, cause that’s really not fair! And it will take some serious strength not to rip that child of the slide and let them know that my daughter was next.











P.S. Feeling kind of pissy today

Slides are for going down not up

That's always really been the rules of the playground. Right? you go down the slide run to the back wait in line, if your naughty cut in line, climb up the ladder and go down again. then you always have some rule breakers who run full speed like their life depends on it up the slide. That child almost always seems to be my child. the one running for their life up the slide. So here I come waddling my fat ass on stubby legs, usually sweating, and say in my nicest voice, "we go down the slide not up the slide". then I usually get a blank stare. HELLO? I want to yell at them "did you not hear me? get off the damn slide now!" but I resist with all of my being. "you need to go down so everyone can have a turn" I coach "come on now" This is almost always followed up with a big pouty lip and a grunt and a grudgingly slide down. At this point I turn around to see perfect mothers in their size 4 gap jeans watching their perfect children waiting patently at the top of the slide. They smile at me, but wouldn't even make eye contact. What the hell? like my kid just pooed on the slide or something. it wasn't that bad. he ran up the slide. I feel like putting on my best snob face and letting one of the mother know that her other daughter is very busy shoving her finger up her nose in hopes of pulling out the "big one" just to pop it into her mouth. yummy. But of course I don’t, kids are kids. and kids are fun, and kids are boogey, and kids are sweaty and kids are germy, and kids are innocent, and kids are sweet, and loving, and FUN! I think as parents we are sooo worried about what our children look like to other people. I am so guilty of this. I constantly am correcting my children then turning to the nearest persona and apologizing for whatever action seemed so bad at the time. But they are just kids. we need to let our children be children sometimes. "Yes" I will say to my kids "Run up that slide, cause if you don't an alligator might eat your toes! But wait until no one is waiting at the top." kids need the gentle correction with lots of opportunity to have fun being kids. All to soon kids will grow up and need to get jobs and pay bills, and ewe be adults. If we don't let kids get the childhood fun they need then when they are in their thirties they are going to revert to being a child and try to justify it by saying I didn't have much of a childhood growing up, it's my time. and they are going to leave their wife and kids in the dust. maybe we can totally eliminate mid-life crisis if we give our kids some room. Maybe I’ll try it. give my kids some time and chances to fall and get hurt and have lots of FUN!

Lets use our indoor voice =|

So it's four in the afternoon and my husband just walks in the door after a full day at work. And I feel like a kid, it's like the best thing that has happened all day, an actual adult has willingly walked into the madhouse. and soon really soon I will be able to talk to him. I really cant wait. so first I have to wait for the kids to scream "daddy daddy" "guess what I did today" or " mommy didn't let me do this or that" like I’m the bad guy for not letting my four year old scramble off into the woods alone, oh sorry not alone, but with her favorite doll. So I wait my turn and after wading through 4 kids that are still hanging on him he gets to me. It's like gold, I don't want to let it out of my sight! so I know I can't bombard him with all the boring endless details of the day all at once. In fact I can't talk to him about anything because all the kids are still yelling nonsense at him. Well not nonsense to them but I’ve heard it all already, I lived through it today, so I really don't want to hear about our horrible poo in the carpet incident again. So in a loud yet nice voice I say lets all use our indoor voices, your hurting my ears. Silence! WOW...it's amazing. for half a millisecond. yup that’s about how long that lasts. so they all start up louder than before. Oh how it's driving me crazy, plus I have a hundred things I need to talk to heath about and I need to start dinner, and switch the laundry, and clean off the table, and I can feel dirt on my floors, and what’s that smell, is that poop again how many times a day can a baby poo? It all feels so overwhelming not to mention the fact that I have the smallest darkest kitchen EVER! "ENOUGH" I yell. claustrophobia took over for a minute. why would anyone want to come home to this. I know I look like holy hell, and the kids are only half dressed. "Go Play NOW!" this to them is like saying go pull your toe nail out. My 10 year old urgghhh's and goes off, my four year old drops her head and slowly mopes off to her room, my two year old runs in circles yelling "no, no, no" and my 1 year old is still pawing at heaths leg to be picked up. The two year old will eventually run off to play. so this I can deal with. I turn to heath who is looking at me like a pathetic mental patient and I self consciously fix my hair. Do I look that bad? what is he seeing? Poor guy. so I start to tell him the important news of the day like the poo in the carpet only my side of it, and he hands me the baby. What the hell. I've been holding him all damn day. He bends sown gives me a kiss and retreats into the bedroom to change and then to the bathroom to do his manly clean up of himself. he's been in the house ten minutes and he gets to hide already. now by this time like clockwork I can hear the kids wrestling in the living room, and I know I have to moderate or it will only turn into an all out brawl. My head hurts, and the kids are screaming, they are having fun, and laughing with each other, which is so nice but they are all sooo loud. "use our indoor voice, and got off the T.V.!!! the last part came out as a yell. oopps. When heath feels like emerging which isn't long I’m sure it just seems that way. like when your in a disaster, and it seems like hours till the police get there but it was really only five minutes. That’s what it feels like. When he walks through the door it's like I can clock out. only I can't. Mom's can't clock out. we are supposed to keep smiling and using our sweet indoor voices to talk to the kids about what they should and shouldn't be doing. or our husbands look at us like we are an overworked crazy hot mess. and we might be, but who wants to look like that? not this gal.  So I try hard to use my indoor voice.  Yeah lets see how well that works.

Hands are not for hitting? really?

What the hell are hands for then?  I'm sure thats what my kids think everytime i say that.  I still say it to my ten year old.  when he gets into one of his rages, and he's hitting me, i try my dambest to keep my calm, and through my teeth in the best sing songy voice i have i reapeat over and over "hands are not for hitting, that hurts me."  You know what he says to that?  "I don't give a shit you fat ass."  I mean really?  did my ten year old really just say that?  It truly brakes my heart, but it's also pisses me off, so then i end up half screaming in his ear, "hands are really NOT for HITTING!!!" Eventually he will calm down and cry and say sorry, but ooww!  That boy is strong.  He is really a sweet boy,. He is truly night and day, or as his psyciatrist sais bi-polar.  But when he's being nice he is the best kid anyone could ask for, the kind of kid you wish was yours.  But when he is in a rage, woowwww watch out!  a tiger comes out.  A mean angry tiger!Poor guy, can you imagine haveing that amount of rage in you and and at sucha young age?  i feel for him.  My boy i ♥ him!
     But back to the task at hand, Hands are not for hitting.  I am so sick of saying that!  so sick of it.  I mean really why can't my two year old just not whack his sister in the face?  So i walk over to him, take him by the hands bend down to his level, and say "look at mommy," thats another good one.  look at mommy but we'll get there.  So i wait till he looks at me while i'm talking and i gently say " hands are not for hitting"  to where he says no hitting"  you might think that at this point i might jump up and down with pride and joy.  I mean he gets it right?  no hitting!  he said it! the world is right agian.  But no because as soon as i tell him to go say sorry to his sister, he says it and then hits her agian.  to where she hits him back.  so now what!  i could just tell her good job he totally deserved it.  he keeps hitting you so hit him back!  But then what kind of a kid am i raising?  So i put Him in a time out and i speak to her and let her know that no matter what "hands are not for hitting" and she can always come to me if someone hits her and i will take care of it.
     I always wonder how this generation of kids is going to turn out.  My generation, we were spanked and told to hit when necissary.  We didn't get told why we can't do things like throw balls in the house.  We didn't do it because our parents would spank us, or get sent in our rooms for hours!  Now we as parents see our kids throwing a ball in the house and we sweetly say, "we don't throw balls in the house it could break my picture frames or knock over the vase.  that would be sad."  And then what? we give them another chance to see if they can throw the ball quieter until something breaks and then we take it away.  I really hope this generation comes out alright. 

If it doesn't work just keep trying till you feel like giving up.

Well I guess I'm going to start blogging, something I always told my self I would never do. like I have the darn time. I have 4 kids. ages 1, 2, 4, and 10. the two year old has speech therapy, the 10 year old has bi-polar, anxiety, and ADD. and in home therapy. I have laundry coming out of my wazoo, dishes are multiplying by the second in my very dirty, and frankly, smelly sink. My rugs haven't been vacuumed in weeks cause the stupid vacuum is broke. there is dust literally making houses in the corners of my kitchen. I mean really who in the hell am I to sit on my huge ass and write about anything? I should be cleaning, that's my sisters famous phrase. "I should be cleaning" that girl sweeps and mops her floors twice a day, her house puts me to shame, and yes she has 3 small kids, so there is no excuse there. I just truly hate cleaning. oh well I'll get there, ha-ha yeah we'll see. my husband helps so much, he will keep the kids busy with tasks so we can both clean together. I ♥ Him!