Do you remember that episode of “The Simpsons” where Marge has the breakdown in the car? She’s driving along and her mind is flooded with requests and voices and noise from all the demands of her children. Suddenly, Maggie pries open her baby bottle and milk flies everywhere. Marge comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road, blocking anyone from passing and casually shuts off the car’s engine. The bus driver walks up to her, knocks on the window and she calmly turns to look at him and roars like a wild ass lioness. Remember that?
That was me on the way home last night.
I can’t remember when that episode initially aired. I can’t remember if I even knew what it felt like to be a mother at the time. I can’t remember why I still remember that one episode so clearly. But I do.
Mentally, I refer back to that episode often. It’s perfect. It’s the way I imagine every parent feels at times, but few will openly admit it. For me though, there is NOTHING that can make my emotions fluctuate from pure love to the brink of insanity more quickly than my children. It’s incredible. Really, it is.
Yesterday was no different.
At 14, 9 and 7, my kids have entered a whole new level of asshole and it’s driving me crazy!
In my extremely limited spare time, I used to sit and quietly reflect on the beautiful things in life I wanted to see and/or do. White sand beaches. Surfing in Costa Rica. Climbing Machu Picchu in Peru. Easter Island. Sitting on a patio in Paris, drinking espresso while reading a book written in French. Backpacking my way through Africa. Taking the dream trip my sister and I planned to Thailand, from Phuket to Bangkok – and yes, we planned it that way because we were kids and thought the names were hilarious! There was no limit to the things my mind could imagine.
But that’s all changed now.
Somedays, the only thing I find myself fantasizing about is how good it would feel to walk around the house with a GIANT garbage bag, throwing everything out while my children watched. In. Horror.
EVERYTHING!!! (insert evil laugh here)
I actually have it all planned.
In my head, it happens in slow motion – the visual might help you to follow along. I would start with the things that bring them the most joy, you know, the toys they play with more often. There would likely be some kind of background music…I don’t know, Eye of the Tiger or something along those lines. Haven’t worked out all those details yet. The smile on my face would be enormous though, as I load that bag with all the things that they know and love. I would even go so far as to ask them how much they value that thing first. I would. I want to give them a glimmer of hope that I might let them keep it if they can describe their love for it well enough. Then, I would throw that out too.
In. Front. Of. Their. Little. Sad. Face.
Yup, this is what my lovely thoughts have turned to.
Now before you get all judgey on me here, I wouldn’t actually do it. Well, never say never, but I have yet to reach that boiling point. I do, however, occasionally enjoy the thought because I truly believe that the level of asshole they have reached is one that can only be matched by an even bigger level of asshole.
And I am a much bigger asshole than they seem to believe!!!
You’re probably wondering what they could possibly have done to deserve this type of blog entry – unless you’re a parent, then you likely don’t even need to hear it to know that they earned it. I’ll try to explain it anyway.
It’s not so much what they did, but what they’ve suddenly become. Like everything that I’ve taught them about listening, using appropriate manners, being respectful and being responsible has been erased. Like the universe turned their behaviour clock back about 5 years and I’m starting all over again.
It’s so weird!
I’ve never been the kind of parent that cleans up after my children; that responsibility has always been on them. Now they’ve just stopped.
They’ve stopped everything!
Stopped cleaning up after themselves.
Stopped behaving.
Stopped following rules.
Stopped listening.
I can be standing directly in front of them and be saying something and they will completely ignore me. Like I’m not even there. Seriously. And perhaps the most bizarre part of this situation is that they actually recognize they are doing it and feel bad about it! If you pay close enough attention in the moment, you can almost see the internal struggle as they attempt to decide what their next move is going to be.
Am I in the Twilight Zone or is this just the type of hell I can expect while they figure out how to manage the insane levels of testosterone that flows through their little, formally angelic, bodies?!?!?
Children suck.
Where’s my garbage bag???
And miles to go before I sleep 