Hello world!

Today was the day i decided a black cloud is following me.  There have been two weeks of insanely crazy kids moments, I’m talking one after another.  You know those stories that are so outrageous, people tell you that you should write them down because they will be funny again to retell someday?  Well, those types of stories aren’t quite as entertaining when they begin happening multiple times a day.

Take today for example.  Sunday, ahhh… the day of rest.  Bullshit.  When you have two “spirited” boys- ages 3 and 5… there is no time for rest.  They climb into my bed bright and early and then Peyton (my older son) takes it upon himself to drag my laptop into the bed.  He is fascinated with Justin Bieber- please, keep your comments to yourself.  He wants to look like him, he wants to sing and dance like him… in fact, Peyton has perfected the Ludacris rap from the Bieber song, “Baby.”  Anywho, he wants me to play you tube music videos at 6am.  Negative.  Then the pouting begins and I am the meanest mom ever.  In fact I believe his direct quote was “You always like to say no to me.”  He is so on point, I absolutely LOVE saying no to him.  It’s my favorite thing to do.  Add that to my “All About Me” description.

The boys ask if they can go outdoors and I firmly tell them that once they clean up playroom North, we will go outside.  Yes, playroom North.  I’m so mean to my kids, that they have so much shit, they needed two playrooms.  What once was my dining room is now playroom North.  Errrr… I continue organizing drawers and catching up with laundry (it reproduces more than octo-mom), and I hear the sound of a bike in my driveway.  I peep out the window and there is Peyton riding his bike- outside- with no adult supervision.  Maybe I should make him watch an episode of Nancy Grace with me- he thinks he is invincible.  He once told me that if someone tries to take him, he will just “beat the man up.”  Good, awesome, great plan Mike Tyson.  I march downstairs, I yell for the boys to come indoors and order them to sit on the couch in a quiet time for a few minutes.

I finish up a few things around the house and Peyton asks if they can use my money to play store.  I tell him that money is not to be played with but that he can use scissors and paper to create his own money.  No complaints, no stomping or grunting, that was easy.  We go outside, they dump 3 gallons of bubbles in the driveway.  I mention that possibly they shouldn’t have done that because now they won’t have bubbles to play with.  Peyton reassures me that they don’t really like bubbles.  Oh, good, I’m glad… no sweat off his back.  The boys run to the back yard to play on the swings while I finish cleaning up the disaster that was left in my driveway.  MAYBE 5 minutes have lapsed and I come around the back of the house to see my angels in their underwear (mind you, it’s 60 degrees and cloudy today) and running through the sprinkler that Peyton took upon himself to start up.  In more actuality, Peyton was running through the sprinkler and pointing it at Ryder (my younger son) who is crying and screaming “STOP” as he goes down the slide that now resembles a water ride.  I pause for a moment and decide to record this scene with my iphone.  Not because I’m proud, not because I even think this story will be funny, but because nobody will ever believe me and I need proof.

I round up the troops to come inside for lunch.  One wants EZ Mac, one wants chicken dino nuggets.  I know it’s not a diner, but I took requests because I’m human and I didn’t have the fight in me.  During lunch I suggest we go the movies.  Chimpanzee looks cute and if the kids aren’t in the house, they can’t destroy it.  Aha!  I’m one step ahead of them.  I rush around the house to get them dry clothes and we jump in the car.  Well, not exactly jump in the car-  there were a couple minutes wasted while they argued over who got the green booster seat.  This is a daily occurrence.  There are two booster seats, both black, but one has red seams and one has green seams.  Every time we get in the car… we have to negotiate who gets what seat.  If I wasn’t so cheap, I’d go buy another green one.  Or better yet, another red one so that neither one of them gets what they want.  😉  Sort of twisted, I know, but we do get to that point when our children push us.

We get to the theater and I get to the ticket window.  Now, the movie starts at 1:30pm and it’s already 1:35pm.  Not to mention, the concession stand line is a mile long and the boys want popcorn.  I reach into my bag to grab my wallet and I can’t feel it.  I reach around, I open the bag and put my whole face in it and it’s evident that my wallet is not there.  I suddenly remember the request Peyton had made earlier in the morning to play with my money.  I look right at him and ask “Where is mommy’s wallet?”  His blue eyes get big as saucers and he responds “In our playroom.”  I turn the troops around and we head back out to the car.  I make it very clear that we are not seeing the movie because I have no money and the reason I have no money is because “NOBODY LISTENS TO ME WHEN I TELL THEM NOT TO TOUCH THINGS!”

At this point, I want them to feel a little pain for what they did, but after weighing the odds, I realize that by not going to the movie at all… I’m really just inflicting more pain on myself.  I go back home and grab my wallet.  We go to another theater in the area.  The movie was great.  The kids behaved.  Hallelujah!  Peyton had a minor stand off with me after the movie when he wanted to play video games and I said “no.”  Upon leaving the theater he told me that “it’s not fair and you’re so mean.”  I let him know that he would be going to his room for a few minutes when we got home and that the proper response to leaving the movies should have been, “Thanks mom for brining us to the movies and getting us popcorn!”

At this point, I’m exhausted.  The husband comes home and I decide to take advantage of this “break” and go the grocery store.  My favorite thing to do when I get an opportunity for alone time is grocery shop- NOT!  Ugh.  I shop.  I get home.  I open the trunk.  One bag falls out. It’s the one with the eggs.  One out of fifteen bags and it had to be the one with the eggs.  I unpack groceries.  We eat dinner.  It’s now 8pm and I’m trying to clean up dinner as we finish.  I go to put the salsa in the fridge and it slips out of my hands and shatters.  Glass everywhere.  I look at Jim (the husband) and I say “There is a black cloud following me.”  He replies “Maybe it’s you.”  Great.  I feel hopeful.

Here’s to hoping you had a better day than me- here’s to hoping my Monday isn’t quite so crazy.  On second thought, it’s 10pm as I wrap this up and my 3 year old just came into my room, wide awake, telling me he is making a wish on a star for money.  He is rambling on and on about the money plant he wants.

Oh Ryder,  if you get your wish… please remember days like today when I spared you and Peyton your lives.


About mymoonstruckkids

Mom. I'm a mom. For five years I have been a mom and I have indeed forgotten who I am outside of that. I'm bland, but my temper is spicy. I adore food, hence the unintended food reference. My kids adore food. And yes, their tempers are spicy. We all adore food, but our palates are bland. I have a degree in Education and I've taken many courses in child psychology and behavior management, yet they don't seem to transfer over into my own life. I am Director at a daycare that has over 139 families enrolled and I can train talented staff, but yet in my home, nobody hears a word I say. So, I'm just a mom. A mom who sometimes thinks her children have got to be the most moonstruck kids on the planet Earth... I'm here to share my experiences and I pray that all you moms with moonstruck kids won't feel so alone. We all know misery loves company. Anybody who says different is lying. When you are having one of those days where you need a glass of wine or you're going to kill your kids, tune in and laugh at me. Take comfort in my chaos, for I promise you are not the only one...

One response to “Hello world!

  1. Amanda Schmidt

    Oh Dear- You are not alone!

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