So, instead, I make sure and call and update her daily. What? It's 2:30am Germany time and you were in bed? Well, since you are awake now, you might as well buck up and listen to me bitch and moan about how they - once again - ruined a Sunday morning. It started at 8am when we spent an hour whining, arguing, and fighting over which church to go to. It wasn't the point that we're going. It's the fact that I debate everything. So it's not as easy as "let's just go to the one that we sporadically go to. " Nope. We could just try his gfriends church. But than there's the dilemna of the fact that it's a really small church and he's one of only three kids - the other 2 being his gf and her sister. And than if we let him have his way and go to her church, we're doing it just to have his way. And we wouldn't know about the church we occasionally go to now if it wasn't for his other friend, who turned out to be a closet walking anger management member of the local juvenile hall. But that's another issue altogether. Five arguments and two yelling matches later and I'm out the door with the kids. We survive through the awkward conversations in the tiny kitchenette with 85 year old grandma's. I have hormonal inbalances through a Sunday school class of 5 other 72.5 year old grandmas, and actually enjoy myself. We grab a back pew, and I start texting Butch, to find out that he fell back asleep and wasn't going to make it the 15 blocks to join us for the church service. Fine. I can do this. I'm a big girl. Nothing I haven't done before. I give Xav a tablet and pen. And it all goes downhill from here. WHAT'S NEW?? Xav starts putting his feet on the pew in front of him. Austin's knocking it off. Xav is getting irritated with Ausitn touching him. I whisper for them to knock it off. Austin takes Xav's pen and draws all the X's and O's on the tic tac toe board Xav has drawn. Xav starts talking smack. Xav's feet are back on the pew. The pews are filling up with people. Austin knocks his feet off again. Austin snaps at Xav. The pastor begins the service. The backdoors are closing. My kids, obvlious to both, are now full on snapping at each other. I grab my purse and haul them for the parking lot. In the foyee I hug the pastor's wife I just met and apologize profusely with a "I've got one with ADD and the other with Jerkface Teenager syndrome! I'm soo sorry. Tell your husband it was really nice to meet you both. I just can't handle this without my husband here too." And she was so sweet and looked me square in the face and told me it was OK. She has two boys of her own, one with ADD, and she totally understood. Which made me more mad at my children. These were the sweetest people. And I'd been actually enjoying myself. And I let them both get an earful on the 3 minute drive home. And they both ran, tails tucked between their legs, right inside and cleaned their rooms. I call Twin. TWIIINNNNNN!!! And I vent to her. "But did you tell them YOU STILL LOVE THEM??" Of course TWIN!! I always do. I still love you. I'm just very disapointed in your behavior!! And TWINN?? For some reason I can't find REAL mommy blogs. I find so many that are peaches and creams. I'm not the mommy that thinks every precious moment of my darlings lives have been nothing but heaven. I can't get my family to eat organically naturally awesome spinach and kale or whatever the hell healthy options I should stuff them full of without them ever complaining foods. I'm not great at dragging them on nature walks to do crafty projects later with the unique leaves and sticks we find. I don't dress them in cutesie wootsie outfits from some name brandy kitsch store. And I've had a heck of a time finding blogs that agree with me. My kids love to fart right in front of me. They think that we should be prepared for a zombie apocolypse. They will tell you that if someone jacks them when they visit bio-dad's it's ok, because they will jack them up with his samarai swords! The things that we openly discuss are oftentimes borderline inappropriate. But it's how we roll. I'm lucky if they brush their teeth every other day. I am dangerously close to raising them into being lazy ass mama's boys with no ideas of responsibilities or willpower or self intiative. And I hate myself for it. I tend to try and give them the freedom I didn't have, which sometimes quite often bites me square in the face. I was in the middle of a full on self pity party and linking from blogs I love to read in hopes I could find someone with some humorous looks on life with children that are far from perfect (like mine). And when I went to Monique (I love to read).. I found Not Blessed Mama ... and she's hilarious!! (Too bad nothing new on there since July... but we all now how busy parenting gets). So it made me not feel so bad for helping (practically doing) the 8 pages of math (who the fck made it so hard) for the 13 year old, that he missed from being out sick for 4 days (and is 18 questions into page 1 and his brain is MUSH ... heck 32 questions in, and only on page 2, so is MINE!!!). Almost bad. I'm trying to help him PASS and busily trying to track down options for a tutor??? Why can't Uncle Sock live nearby when I need him?? HUH??? Let's not even admit to the fact that that special teen is now singing Eminem to himself while he's digging through my frig. Have I told you lately it takes him longer to do his hair in the morning than I do? Or the fact that the almost 10 year old has BO? I've failed so much at parenting, that I just drug the little guy through the store and did WHAT I SWORE I'D NEVER DO and let him pick out his own birthday presents (his bday is Tues... ya... that's 2 days from now). He's been going on and on about a party. Goddammittalll I need to get him a cake??? And he wants half the neighborhood over to eat it. And I'll have to get cupcakes and drop them at school too. Sweet crap I'm not anywhere close to ready for that. I seriously have had NO INITIAVE to do anything the past two days. NONE. I just run with Butch to the store, sweat over every penny, which my cash card is nice enough to TEXT ME about every transaction to flaunt HEY NUMNUTS YOU ARE B.R.O.K.E -- WAY TO FAIL FAIL FAIL FAIL.
Some days are not the best days. Some days I'm not the best mom. Some days my kids are not the best kids. Some days I'm tired and want to grab a book and hide in the bathtub. But than my cat Nala attacks the door until I give in and let her in. Where she sits on the edge of the tub and takes swipes and nips at me until I give in and pet her with the free hand.
Life isn't perfect. I fed my kids taco bell for lunch. And I fed them mcdonald's hamburgers for dinner. Yes I did. I also let them drink some grape soda when they got thirsty. And I didn't feel guilty about it at all. I'm sure that sound bad.
"My kids always perceived the bathroom as a place where you wait it out until all the groceries are unloaded from the car."