Cinderella in the Making
I am so sick and tired of being here. There is a reason we don’t have dogs. While they are fine companions for people who have time, four dirty, shedding dogs is excessive no matter how you look at it. My mom replaced the carpet with laminate flooring, which is a GOOD thing, but boy oh boy does it require major sweeping. I am tired of sweeping. Sweep sweep sweep. We have to sweep the floor a bare minimum of four times a day just to feel semi-clean. I don’t understand how the dogs have any hair left at all.
Then there’s the laundry. My god, the laundry! If the washer isn’t running there’s something wrong. The kids play hard outside all day long and that makes for a lot of dirty, wet clothes. They also take a bath in the morning and at night, which is a whole lot of towels (I have no idea why they don’t use the same towel more than once).
Feeding this many people is also a pain in the ass. As is doing the millions of dishes that would be sooooo nice to slip into a dishwasher if there was one around here.
Mike is helping out a lot so it’s not like I’m being a martyr and trying to do everything myself, but we are both just spent.
Then. . . then. . . then. . . my mom has the NERVE to walk in the house and start saying that I’m exactly like my sister and don’t do any housework. I just about took her head off when she said it yesterday. Does my sister ever run a load of laundry? Does she ever cook dinner? Does she ever clean up the bathroom after the kids have a bath? Does she ever sweep the floor? Does she ever do anything but make a gigantic mess? No, no, a thousand times no. I don’t know what my mom expects the house to look like when she gets home. I know when we aren’t here the house looks like a pig pen because no one does the things Mike and I do during the day. I know it’s frustrating to come home to a messy house, but she should be very appreciative of all the laundry and cooking and sweeping we are doing.
I’m starting to get bored of my own whining, but I am just confounded by her complaints. No one can do anything right EVER since she started menopause when I was in high school. I think maybe she is trying to be funny when she says that I’m just like my sister and that I hate housework (I hates it, I do), but I don’t see a single glimmer of humor in being compared to my sister. None. NADA. ZERO.
I can’t wait to get home. I’m sure we could get a flight before Saturday, but my mom can’t take any more time off work and the airport is an hour and a half away over a mountain that may or may not be slippery and slidey. I’m just glad we didn’t go over to Medford this morning at 4 am. We would have ended up in San Fransisco for who knows how long. I do not want to be trapped in San Fransico. We know people there who could and probably would save us, but I don’t have any contact info for any of them. Ah the joys of friends in the computer.
At least the kids were mostly good today. They do a lot better when my mom’s not here to coddle them. Braxton is the whiniest little brat I’ve ever encountered when his grandma is anywhere in the vicinity because he knows she’ll save him. They have no consequences, no structure, no rules, no limits. It makes me sad and angry, but what can I do? You can’t tell people how to raise their kids. I try to make suggestions without sounding like a know-it-all, but no one wants to hear from me. They think I’m mean to Erik. “You’re so mean! I can’t believe you are so mean! Why are you so mean?” Saying “no hitting” and holding his hands for ten seconds is mean? Feeding him applesauce and roasted chicken instead of cheetos and chicken nuggets mean? Telling him to stop whining when there is nothing wrong is mean? Telling him no once in a while is mean? If so, I’m guilty as charged. I’d really like to be able to take my child out in public without him making a scene or causing everyone around us to cringe and take note of the brat.
Time for bed. I was hoping to get some more work done tonight but I’m exhausted. I was up before six this morning to help with the kids so my mom could get to work on time. At least we were able to take the kids over to their sitter this afternoon and will continue to do that the rest of the week.
February 15th, 2007 at 10:14 am
925 space 337 space 3181 or 510 space 625 space 6980. I know, you’ll hold out as long as you can, but if it really gets too insane, come on down. We won’t make you sleep with the 11 cats – we will find friends, or put you up in the doubletree inn at the end of the street. And we do airport pickup – in fact I think the car knows its way to both Oakland and SFO, just like a horse. (Always easier, I think, to cope when you don’t feel completely trapped in a situation.)
February 15th, 2007 at 10:27 am
I’m so sorry you’re stuck there! And I think maybe they should be thankful to have ya’ll there to help out. And you’re not mean. You’re making good choices for your child which will teach him how to make good choices for himself later on in life.
February 15th, 2007 at 12:43 pm
You’re so not mean. I’ve been labelled as a meanie with my kids. But they’re well-behaved and polite and are a pleasure to take out and about (usually). And they wonder why I don’t visit them more often…
Two baths a day!?! Are you kidding me?!? How the heck do they get so ‘dirty’ during the night? I grew up where we had baths once a week – sponged off in between as necessary. It makes a difference when you have to haul and heat the water every time.
Here’s hoping you get home soon.
February 16th, 2007 at 7:51 am
I wish more parents were ‘mean’ with their kids. Maybe they’d learn something!
I was talking to The Man about this the other day, and told him how the kids in my family were trained to behave at the dinner table. I remember my little brother in his high chair, when he was really just a baby. He was out in the kitchen, being fed by someone. (Older sister, or perhaps Mum.) When he was good, he was brought through to the dining table to be with the rest of the family and guests, but the moment he was too noisy or started throwing food around, it was back out to the kitchen.
It wasn’t punishment, really. He always had someone with him, and nobody told him off, exactly, just told him he was too noisy or that his behaviour wasn’t good for the dining room. But I remember he didn’t spend much time in the kitchen anyway – the dining room was more interesting and so there was a reason to behave.
I guess I was trained in the same way. But for this method it helps to have a big family – there were seven of us, so I don’t know how it worked with the first one or two.
But we were amazingly well behaved at mealtimes. I met someone a couple of years ago who knew our family when I was a kid, and apparently we were famous for it. What cruel parents we must have had!
(I’ll admit that when we didn’t have guests we were allowed to be a little more lax…)
February 16th, 2007 at 9:34 am
If helping your children behave and helping them make good lifestyle/eating choices is mean, I hope I’m the meanest mom around. Peanut behaves pretty well in public unless she’s super tired. Then all bets are off. Still, I think being ‘mean’ and letting her know what behaviors are not acceptable has given her structure and let her know that her daddy and I care enough about her to take interest in what she does.
We only had baths once or twice a week too when I was growing up. There were 5 of us kids so it was something of a rotating schedule. And what’s wrong with using a towel more than once? Good grief. Why make more work for yourself? Just remember this trip isn’t a regular occurrence, the circumstances are extraordinary and the next time you see your mom you’ll be on your turf. Good luck with your trip home!