Sometimes there are days that I love and adore my children. Okay, I always love my children, but I do not always adore them. Sometimes I am amazed at how well behaved, considerate and thoughtful they can be. Then there are the other times. We have had many "what the fuck?!" moments around here lately. But Sunday night. *sigh* Sunday night....well it was the crowning "what the fuck" moment of the year thus far.
Bug had been quite the little shit all weekend. He had been pushing the limits. Seriously. Dumping the clothes out of the dresser, refusing to go potty (that's a whole other entry), defiance. But then he would be all sweet and cuddly and make me love him again. Those toddlers, they're crafty.
After Gray Gray & Gram left Sunday afternoon, he was really on a tear, though. When I called him for supper I noticed that he had little bits of styrofoam all over him. And I do mean all. over. him. WTF? I chastised him appropriately, told him that that styrofoam is NOT a toy, and we had supper. After supper, I was cleaning up the kitchen and Bear came and got me to tell me that Bug had torn up more styrofoam and , oh yeah, "I was fanning it. With my pants." WTF?
I go in the boys' bedroom to see...the blizzard. Seriously. It looked like, well, Denver in there. (sorry, Hula) Bug was naked - except for the nine pairs of underwear he was wearing. WTF???And, the pièce de résistance, he had pulled about half of the freshly folded laundry out of his drawers. Huge pile of pjs, underwear, socks and shirts. Hadn't we just gone over that two days ago? Arrrrggghhhh! I was FURIOUS. (I suppose I could say that I was pissed off, but that would be a terrible pun and so I won't subject you to that.) (heh)
I told them that they had to pick up the chunks of the styrofoam while I refolded the clothes to put back in the drawers. A moment later, Bear tells me, "Uh, Mommy? Bug tee-teed on those clothes. All over them." And yes, they were soaked. What. the. fuck?!? Was it an accident? No. As Bug explains it, the clothes "were on fire" and he was the firefighter putting it out. My hero. This is when I lost it.
WHAT, in the name of Elmo, is wrong with this child?
It was all I could do not to scream at him. (Well, yes, I will admit, I did scream a little.) (Little is a relative term, right?) I then gathered up all of the soiled clothes and took them to the laundry room to rewash them. Because that is my favorite thing EVER to do. I continued to supervise the cleaning up of the styrofoam and berate any boy who stopped to complain. That shit was everywhere, all over their room. And it's a big room. Once the big chunks were picked up, I made them sit on their beds (Bug was n*ked, since I had taken all nine pairs of underwear off in preparation for bedtime) while I vacuumed the teensy tiny static-filled bits up. That took forever, it seemed. And for a child who hates loud noises, that was the most heinous punishment I could come up with.
With the clean up complete, I got both boys ready for bed. Bug wasn't allowed to sit with us for the bedtime story but I did snuggle and rock him while I sang our bedtime songs. I'm not a monster. And they both went to sleep without any protest. I think that they could sense they had pushed me to the very edge.
Not surprisingly, this week has been better. Actually, Bug has been in underwear *dry* all week. The impression of Mommy-on-the-brink seems to have tempered the rebellion somewhat. Don't know how long that will last. For their sake and mine, I hope it will be a while.
Bug had been quite the little shit all weekend. He had been pushing the limits. Seriously. Dumping the clothes out of the dresser, refusing to go potty (that's a whole other entry), defiance. But then he would be all sweet and cuddly and make me love him again. Those toddlers, they're crafty.
After Gray Gray & Gram left Sunday afternoon, he was really on a tear, though. When I called him for supper I noticed that he had little bits of styrofoam all over him. And I do mean all. over. him. WTF? I chastised him appropriately, told him that that styrofoam is NOT a toy, and we had supper. After supper, I was cleaning up the kitchen and Bear came and got me to tell me that Bug had torn up more styrofoam and , oh yeah, "I was fanning it. With my pants." WTF?
I go in the boys' bedroom to see...the blizzard. Seriously. It looked like, well, Denver in there. (sorry, Hula) Bug was naked - except for the nine pairs of underwear he was wearing. WTF???And, the pièce de résistance, he had pulled about half of the freshly folded laundry out of his drawers. Huge pile of pjs, underwear, socks and shirts. Hadn't we just gone over that two days ago? Arrrrggghhhh! I was FURIOUS. (I suppose I could say that I was pissed off, but that would be a terrible pun and so I won't subject you to that.) (heh)
I told them that they had to pick up the chunks of the styrofoam while I refolded the clothes to put back in the drawers. A moment later, Bear tells me, "Uh, Mommy? Bug tee-teed on those clothes. All over them." And yes, they were soaked. What. the. fuck?!? Was it an accident? No. As Bug explains it, the clothes "were on fire" and he was the firefighter putting it out. My hero. This is when I lost it.
WHAT, in the name of Elmo, is wrong with this child?
It was all I could do not to scream at him. (Well, yes, I will admit, I did scream a little.) (Little is a relative term, right?) I then gathered up all of the soiled clothes and took them to the laundry room to rewash them. Because that is my favorite thing EVER to do. I continued to supervise the cleaning up of the styrofoam and berate any boy who stopped to complain. That shit was everywhere, all over their room. And it's a big room. Once the big chunks were picked up, I made them sit on their beds (Bug was n*ked, since I had taken all nine pairs of underwear off in preparation for bedtime) while I vacuumed the teensy tiny static-filled bits up. That took forever, it seemed. And for a child who hates loud noises, that was the most heinous punishment I could come up with.
With the clean up complete, I got both boys ready for bed. Bug wasn't allowed to sit with us for the bedtime story but I did snuggle and rock him while I sang our bedtime songs. I'm not a monster. And they both went to sleep without any protest. I think that they could sense they had pushed me to the very edge.
Not surprisingly, this week has been better. Actually, Bug has been in underwear *dry* all week. The impression of Mommy-on-the-brink seems to have tempered the rebellion somewhat. Don't know how long that will last. For their sake and mine, I hope it will be a while.
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