I’m not a control freak. I’m not a control freak. I’M NOT A CONTROL FREAK!
I swear I’m not! I’ve always considered myself a “go with the flow” kind of gal. Plans? I mean, they’re nice and all, but I don’t particularly like making them. Now that I have children who don’t crap their pants or require a nipple in their mouths every hour and a damn half, the spontaneous me I thought was lost forever has come back, and I am quite enjoying her! Life can now revolve around… well… life. Though I still may not be able to take a friggin’ pee without an audience, I’d have to say, life is pretty relaxing. Most of the time. Like the good ol’ days, only… instead of up and deciding to go see the newest slasher flick, we’re seeing *cringe* family movies, but still- spontineity! I craved it.
What comes along with these kids getting older and needing less of me, is wanting more of what else is out there in the world, and the sad but true thing is- “out there” usually costs money. I don’t like spending money. I’m all about rewarding good behavior, sure, but giving my kids everything they ask for? Oh HEEEEEEEELL no! (imagine that with a sassy head bobble. The feeling just isn’t right without it).
“Maybe for my birthday??” Oh, hon. Your birthday is about (insert whatever big ass number of months away their birthday is here) away. Cue a look of disappointment and big sad eyes that would make Puss in Boots proud. Just as I was about to relinquish control to the crotchfruit, it dawned on me. If they’re old enough to almost effectively persuade me, they are old enough to earn their own damn money instead of mooching.
I had been anxiously awaiting this moment for YEARS. They are old enough to do CHORES, but still young and dumb enough to think getting a quarter for some serious manual labor around the house is like hitting the jackpot. There were no sugarplums dancing through my head, but I certainly got visions of how I thought life would be post-chore-aged children. Maybe I could FINALLY be that lazy bitch that many assume stay at home moms are! I could finally loaf around on the couch, stuffing my pie hole with bon-bons, or maybe I’d be one of those classy broads who sips martinis on the porch with my gal-pals, gossiping while the kids scrub the base boards. I wasn’t sure which way this would go, but I was positive it would be GLORIOUS!
We bought a dry erase board, wrote down a list of chores that could be done around the house with how much each one was worth, and set the kids to work.
Very quickly, I realized this was not glorious at all. There were no bon bons or martinis or laziness.
After showing them what to do for each, multiple times, I let them go off on their own while I kept a watchful (read: I totally fucking helicoptered) eye. They were the Daniel-son to my Mr. Miyagi- but they refused to just wax on and wax off! Even with weeks of my
hovering and scolding watching and instructing, there was little to no improvement.
Supervising my 5 year old doing the laundry and throws a red into the whites. OH GOD, NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??
Watching my 7 year old clean the toilets and accidentally getting part of the paper towel he’s using INTO the bowl and STILL USES IT TO CLEAN THE SEAT. CHRIST ON A BICYCLE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING???
…..and then he tries to use the same paper towel for the sink. DEAR GOD, MAN! HAVE YOU NO HEART???
Not only am I having to be the crazy helicopter mom, but more often than not, I have to go behind them and re-do whatever it is they were supposed to do but messed up. It’s MORE WORK THAN BEFORE!! All in the name of teaching them responsibility??? I think I’m developing a nervous twitch any time they even ask if there’s a chore to do. THIS IS NOT HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE!!
Everyone keeps saying it’ll get better as they get older, but I think everyone is just fucking nuts from having to hover over their kids as they scrub pee spackled toilets with twice-used paper towel. I SEE WHAT’S GOING ON HERE!
I’ll just scrub my own damn toilets and the kids will never get anything ever again. Yes, I know it doesn’t work that way. JUST LET ME DREAM!!
Every. Single. Time. pic.twitter.com/aAAWWjdrN3
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.