There might not be many brain cells left in what i’ve got bouncing around in my skull- but i’m not a COMPLETE idiot.
Therefore, I know when I say it’s NAP TIME, no matter how many times I stomp up the stairs and threaten the bajeezus out of my almost 5 year old, that he doesn’t listen to me. Yeah yeah, I know he’s not napping. He NEEDS to nap, because when he doesn’t he turns into a complete asshole by 6pm- but he doesn’t.
As much as I wish I had the power over a child to say the words “SLEEP!” and suddenly have them pass the fuck out for a solid 2 hours, alas, I am just a mere mortal, and my words are just words, and when it comes to the act of sleeping- it would appear that unless someone is small enough to be swayed in your arms until they finally cannot physically keep their eyes open anymore- you’re shit the fuck out of luck.
What I assumed he was doing up there was a mixture of talking to himself, kicking the wall repeatedly because he knows it pisses me off, smashing his toys together, picking his nose and biting his nails since he was out of my eyesight and therefore I wouldn’t bitch at him for it, and barricading himself into his room via train tracks. Oh, and pooping. For some reason, you say the word “nap” to the kid, and he instantly has to take a dump the size of Texas. One would think he could go BEFORE nap time instead… but that just makes too much sense.
I suppose some people may think I should just be happy that the kid goes to his room and stays quiet enough to let his little brother take a decent nap and for me to regenerate some of the brain cells lost dealing with his random bullshit on a daily basis- but what can I say? I’m greedy. Nap time is nap time and therefore should be NAP time. I’d kill for a nap. Or at least lightly maim someone.
Whatever. I understand how it works. Take what you can get. He’s almost 5, napping couldn’t last forever. So i’m taking it. And i’ve been taking it for a while now. I still bitch at him to GO TO SLEEP when I hear a loud thump come from upstairs- but thus far there have been no injuries, no broken glass, no small fires or expensive toys jammed into electrical sockets, and in a few short months, SOB, my big baby will be off to school and will be his teachers problems during what is currently known as nap time.
It wasn’t until we were putting the kids to bed a couple of nights ago that I found out this whole “quiet time” thing has been a charade of epic proportions, and that my relatively quiet little child was only being quiet in order to get away with dastardly deeds. And that what I like to call “the witching hour”- that hour before dinner where your child is like a fucking gremlin after getting splashed with water and goes completely apeshit for no apparent reason- was not due to a lack of napping.
“Tell Mommy what you’ve been doing during nap time”
I was puzzled, to say the least. What in the holy hell could Thomas know that I don’t when i’m home for 7 naps a week and he’s home for 2?
Kid being a kid, he did not want to tell me what Thomas was telling him to tell me (that’s a lot of telling). And it was clear that he just wasn’t going to- this is always a sign that whatever has been done is BAD. Really bad.
He pulled back the curtain of the window- which is directly next to Holden’s bed, you know, the one he should be NAPPING in during nap time? And there are chunks taken out. Literally, chunks taken out. The windowsills are all painted white, and there staring at me were probably 6 or 7 brown spots.
WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THAT?
No, really, what IS it. I had no idea. Had he just been picking away at the paint? I mean I hear noises coming from up there but it never sounded like the chipping of paint and wood. I know he looks out the window (yeah, the turd who lies to me and tells me he’s been napping then continues on to tell me what he saw out of his window during this supposed nap. DUH)
So I go into Mommy Mode, and Holden’s room turns into an interrogation room.
“What did you do?”
“Tell me what you did”
“DON’T LIE TO ME. TELL ME WHAT YOU DID”
“…. I bit the window”
Fucking YEAH. Those chunks taken out of the windowsill were from my child’s MOUTH.
THAT SHIT AIN’T RIGHT!
I mean, there are things our kids do on occasion that have us wondering if perhaps they fell on their head some time that we weren’t helicoptering over them as babies, or maybe they’ve been huffing cleaning products, or the one you hear the most often- eating paint chips- but usually we are JOKING.
Little did I fucking know that my kid IS the one eating the damn paint chips!
That explains a lot…
Or am I?
I don’t even know anymore.
You know that feeling when you don't chew a chip all the way and it cuts you all the way down and you swear it's gonna kill you, but you go ahead have another right after? That's what it's like when you decide to have another kid.
For any parent who's ever had a kid who thinks they're more grown up than they are... and proves themselves wrong-- this story is for you holdinholden.com/2017/12/10-g…
@The_Mrs_Ward It's definitely a step out of the comfort zone but once you dip a toe in, it's hard to go back!
Out with the old, in with the pink! pic.twitter.com/plm0ogzPLf
10 Going on 20: The Spicy Chicken Story goo.gl/fb/qqm3FZ
'Tis the season to return a gift given to you and have the uncontrollable urge to buy more crap for your kids with the money.
😂😂😂 I never knew we had so much in common pic.twitter.com/Yu4ytvgmOp