Three days into summer vacation with the kids being off school, so I thought it would be fitting to reflect on last year’s summer vacation to remember what I am up against. In remembrance, I will repost a portion of my blog from last summer:
I’d like to say that I have been spending my summer days on my back patio, soaking in the sun next to the new pool of the house we just bought–possibly sipping on a Margarita with a straw hat on and watching my children in excitement. Instead, I have been a referee, parented by my 8 year old coparent, a complaining consumer when my son was verbally assaulted at the grocery store for singing from a grocery bagger, and the victim of my son playing “Whose your daddy”: by slapping my ass repeatedly in the clothing store while I was trying on clothes. (with the best audience for him, ie, his sisters).
Not to mention that my daughter has managed to get hurt ever single night outside playing and when I mean every single night, I mean every single night. Neighbors are noticing too. Its like that cold sore on your mouth that you convince yourself that other people won’t realize, but when they keep staring at it because you keep touching it, you are screwed. Same as when your neighbors realize that your kids have their own crocheted “boo boo” bag and say. “iIt must be that bad as what I’m seeing because they have their own boo boo bag.” ( i never said we were an elegant bunch).
My middle daughter has now turned ghetto…twerking it in her bedroom wearing only …“my little pony” underwear and running around the house saying “that’s bullshit”. I’d understand if I said that, but I don’t. (i have other choice words). Next thing I’ll know is that she going to go by the name”Elizabeth Carlye” (her new porn star name) or Lil’ Lana for extra street cred with Ariel tattooed on her boob…
My son has decided he’s done coming to me with issues. He just does them or leaves. I hear the front door close and find him walking to the neighbor’s house to socialize when he’s bored with me. If I haven’t made it to the kitchen to get his food fast enough, he just eats 12 bags of fruit snacks and usually a couple of cheerios off the floor, maybe an ice cube or two. I try to give him hugs and kisses to tuck him in and he tells me to leave and close the door. Like what two year old does that? He has become my pimp by slapping me in the face, and then sucking on it. Shopping with him is like walking on eggshells because he is either acting like America’s Host waving at everyone or throwing a tantrum on the floor. (followed by Insert me dropping to the floor also screaming here).
My first born is now 8 going on 28. I can’t tell because of her attitude issues. I come into a room and she is giving orders to my other children whether I am present or not. “Mommy, tell the kids to clean up their mess!” (um…what did you just say to me)…
(……Nothing has changed…… except the year…and my haircolor.)