In a discussion about our youngest daughter this weekend, Rambo looked at me dead seriously and said, “Wow. We’re screwed. She got all of me and my not so good traits, didn’t she?
She has none of you in her. Shit. Shit. And double shit.”
I didn’t even argue with him.
The little girl hates authority. Hates rules. Hates anyone who tells her what to do.
She’s a free spirit who never sits still and is happiest when she is exploring outside. Wearing short sleeves and no shoes when she’s been told to put on a sweatshirt and shoes about 50 times.
Warnings don’t mean anything to her.
You’ll get sick and your toes will freeze off. “I don’t care.” is her response.
You won’t get to go to the class party if you don’t take the test. “I don’t care.”
You can’t go to the neighbor’s house to play if you don’t clean your room. “Okay mom.”
You’ll get in trouble at school if you don’t listen. “I don’t care.”
She has no fear of trouble or people being angry with her behavior or of consequences.
It is maddening.
To those of you who write blogs about how parenting is the spark in your eyes every single moment of every single day….well I say to you – you’re lying. Take my kid for a day. Just one damn day. You shall never write of rainbows shooting out of your eyeballs again. Like ever.
Part of being a free spirit for my kid is wearing what she wants – no matter what the weather is like. I’m not kidding. She’ll wear flip flops to school and take her snow boots in her backpack to change into for recess.
She looks like a damn idiot. Scratch that – she looks like she has a mother who is a damn idiot. She’s one of those kids wearing a tank top when it’s negative 40 degrees who people look at, shake their head and say, “Her mother must be a drug addict.”
I think I should try drugs. Everyone probably thinks I’m on them anyway at this point.
Lately my kid also has this thing about black leggings. She must have 50 pairs of leggings with patterns and colors but she can ONLY wear black ones. You know – so that every day even if she’s wearing a new pair of black leggings – to others – they think she wears the same pair of pants for 5 days.
Again – forgive her – her mom is on drugs. Remember?
Soooo this morning – no black leggings were clean.
Can you say Major Meltdown City? Like we went all the way to Crazy Town and ended up back in Mama’s Foaming at the Mouth Village.
Jesus, Joseph and Mary on a unicycle.
I cannot deal.
I told her she was trying my patience. That “they are just pants for God’s sake”. That this is why I tell her to pick out her outfit the night before. I even made faces that I’m sure Satan would be scared of.
Full on sobbing and weeping. Tears. Snot. The whole enchilada – before 7am.
She covered her face with her bookbag all the way to the sitter’s house. She ran into their house without looking back or even saying goodbye.
She broke my heart into a million pieces without even trying. The power the little shit holds is immense and God forbid if she ever realizes that.
So yah – parenting is sucking the life out of me today. Rambo called about an hour later to ask if I was okay. Who the hell wants to discipline before 7am? Who the hell wants their kid’s day to start like that?
Not I – said the mother on drugs.
You might think I’m drinking water at work all day but the truth is that it’s vodka. Don’t judge.
And don’t tell pregnant people or the rest of us bloggers that every day of parenting is like bathing in Skittles.
It just ain’t. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Some days it just blows.
All before 7am.
I’d sign this little entry with my name but I can’t remember what it is. The pills I washed down with vodka kicked in and I forgot I even have kids so all is now well again in my world.