So lately, it seems, my children have forgotten the meaning of the phrase "be quiet". Especially when other people are still sleeping. Like, it's next to impossible. It's almost as if sleeping past 7 on a weekend is a war crime. The warfare they launch on your sanity is ridiculous. Bickering, whining, all out fighting over things so trivial it makes you literally sit and scratch your head thinking "I don't get it".
I have tried yelling threats from the bedroom, repeating myself "Be QUIET!" (said through clenched teeth, of course), getting up, displaying my dominance, and then storming back bed. None of which work. They continue to be disrespectful little soldiers, hell bent on making sure that if they are up, everybody is up.
I feel like Lynette on Desperate Housewives. Frazzled, sleep deprived, and ready to steal my kid's ADD medication just to have the energy to complete the day. Thankfully, none of my children have medication of any sort. Maybe that is the problem.... Every kid is on something these days. Maybe doping them into complacency wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe a little Trazodone in their bedtime snack would help Mommy get a little shut eye on the weekends. Or maybe I could slide some MREs under the door and lock them in. Yeah, that's a bad idea. They'd probably tear the house down from the top floor down. Little Tazmanian Devils. Swirling beings of destruction.
So here is the million dollar question. HOW does one make their children realize that weekend mornings are for watching cartoons? How do you drill into their heads that one of these days, Mommy is going to be just angry enough to bring down fire and brimstone in a display of such splendor that Satan himself will cower in a corner of the depths of hell? I have tried speeches. I have tried bribing. Threats, rewards, grounding, asking them WHY they can't grasp the simple "be quiet when others are sleeping" approach. And nothing. Do I need to enact a household ban on leaving one's bedroom before I get up? I guess I need to figure something out. Things are about to reach a whole new level of interesting, with a new baby coming and all.
Hmmmm, maybe that's the key...postpartum hormones. I don't think M. Knight Shyamalan can top the scariness and reckless abandon of a new mom not getting enough sleep. I guess time will tell. Hopefully we won't be seeing each other on an NBC nightly special anytime soon.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
No really, how the hell did I end up here?
It's 5am and I'm sitting in a dark living room, wondering "how in the hell did I end up here?" By "here" I don't mean the living room. I know how I ended up in the living room. I mean, how the hell did I end up here...in my life? How did I go from party girl extreme, to mother of 3.5, living in South Dakota, cleaning up vomit at 5am? Funny how life changes mold our lives. Equally funny how I sit up at an ungodly hour thinking about it.
Little back story: Born in Minnesota. Raised in NW Ohio. Moved to Indianapolis when I was 18. There, I became quite the care free party girl. Worked in strip clubs. Drank all night. Experimented with um, we'll call them "extracuricular activities". All in all, it was a pretty good life for an early 20 something, albeit a bit extreme. But hey, everyone needs some extreme in their life right? Right. At least that's what I tell myself. Meet my now exhusband. Have 2 children, get divorced. As all good Americans, eh? Yeah, that's what I tell myself too. Meet the new "Mr. Right". Move in, have a baby. Decide this relationship isn't what it's cracked up to be either, and get the hell out.
Pack up 3 kids, a trunk full of cloth diapers and a few pairs of clothes, and head of the hills. (Otherwise known as Minnesota.) There I search for my own way in life. Unattached to a man for the first time in I couldn't tell you how long, I face being a single mom in Podunk, USA. Lemme tell you, it SUCKS. Worked for a month in a gas station then took a job as a correctional officer in a men's prison. FUN! WOOOOOOOO! UGH! Meet my current husband, get married (a year later) and move to South Dakota. Here I have a hodgepodge of jobs and have a short stint on two roller derby teams, until I hurt my back and retire. Then, my new husband dutifully knocks me up about 4 months after our 2 year anniversary.
I resign to being a stay at home mom after morning sickness and exhaustion consume my (very few) every waking moments. I take a job doing social networking for a local natural parenting shop, and knit my way into a few extra bucks. I also decide to make a dream come true and start towards becoming a DONA certified doula. Look it up, I'm not linking. It's 5:30 am.
So anyway, this morning (I hate to even acknowledge it as morning already) I am awoken by my beautiful, spunky daughter, who cheerfully informs me "I just puked in my bed". Awesome! Get her situated on the couch, strip her bed, and cozy up in the recliner waiting for her to fall back asleep so I can go back to slumber myself. Even though the other bazillion kids in my house will be up soon. (I'm babysitting, I don't have a bazillion kids, as I mentioned earlier.) Which leads me to this insane thought process.
I'm pretty sure she's asleep now, so I'm going to attempt to catch some more zzz's before my day starts all over again. Later.
Little back story: Born in Minnesota. Raised in NW Ohio. Moved to Indianapolis when I was 18. There, I became quite the care free party girl. Worked in strip clubs. Drank all night. Experimented with um, we'll call them "extracuricular activities". All in all, it was a pretty good life for an early 20 something, albeit a bit extreme. But hey, everyone needs some extreme in their life right? Right. At least that's what I tell myself. Meet my now exhusband. Have 2 children, get divorced. As all good Americans, eh? Yeah, that's what I tell myself too. Meet the new "Mr. Right". Move in, have a baby. Decide this relationship isn't what it's cracked up to be either, and get the hell out.
Pack up 3 kids, a trunk full of cloth diapers and a few pairs of clothes, and head of the hills. (Otherwise known as Minnesota.) There I search for my own way in life. Unattached to a man for the first time in I couldn't tell you how long, I face being a single mom in Podunk, USA. Lemme tell you, it SUCKS. Worked for a month in a gas station then took a job as a correctional officer in a men's prison. FUN! WOOOOOOOO! UGH! Meet my current husband, get married (a year later) and move to South Dakota. Here I have a hodgepodge of jobs and have a short stint on two roller derby teams, until I hurt my back and retire. Then, my new husband dutifully knocks me up about 4 months after our 2 year anniversary.
I resign to being a stay at home mom after morning sickness and exhaustion consume my (very few) every waking moments. I take a job doing social networking for a local natural parenting shop, and knit my way into a few extra bucks. I also decide to make a dream come true and start towards becoming a DONA certified doula. Look it up, I'm not linking. It's 5:30 am.
So anyway, this morning (I hate to even acknowledge it as morning already) I am awoken by my beautiful, spunky daughter, who cheerfully informs me "I just puked in my bed". Awesome! Get her situated on the couch, strip her bed, and cozy up in the recliner waiting for her to fall back asleep so I can go back to slumber myself. Even though the other bazillion kids in my house will be up soon. (I'm babysitting, I don't have a bazillion kids, as I mentioned earlier.) Which leads me to this insane thought process.
I'm pretty sure she's asleep now, so I'm going to attempt to catch some more zzz's before my day starts all over again. Later.
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