Oh, how I loathe summertime. I am just not cut out for warm weather. Today I had intended to beat the heat with an afternoon at a local water playground. It was not only so I could wear my new maternity bathing suit and even out those weird tan lines. It was also a bribe to get the girls (I don’t know why I still link to them every time—their blogs have not been updated since 1992!) to do their chores. All I wanted was the crap picked up off the living room floor so I could vacuum. Yes, I occasionally do that.
Instead, they chose to lay on the floor and whine about how it just isn’t fair. Why do I have to do all this? Um, maybe because you’re the ones who made the damn mess in the first place. Then my mom gets after me with her whole Cinderella-complex. I’m thinking it’s really not too much to expect a 7-year-old to clean her own messes. It’s not like I have her cooking my dinner or ironing my clothes. After 4 hours, the living room—which was really not that messy, by the way—doesn’t look much different then it did last night, except for the addition of breakfast crumbs.
I did manage to get them to pick up the eleventy hundred pairs of shoes they had strewn about the first floor on their way up for nap/quiet-time. Of course, that was met with huge sighs and groans about how it was just too hard to carry that many shoes at the same time. Then I mentioned that perhaps they had too many shoes to begin with and I should come visit the shoe rack with my donation box. Extra hands suddenly appeared and all shoes made it to the appropriate locations without any mishaps. It’s a miracle, I tell ya.
I feel sort of bad that I’m the one counting down the days until school starts. I’m sure that makes me a horrible mother in some eyes. I’m just so tired of breaking up fights, tearing down soda-bottle walls between lunch seats (at least they figured out how not to fight for one 20-minute period per day), and listening to whining about how unfair it is that they have to do something other than veg out in front of the television.
2 weeks. I can manage for 2 weeks. Besides, they are going to Camp Grandma’s for 1 of those weeks so I really only have 5 more days of this nonstop, in-your-face, what-can-we-do-now summer schedule.
5 days.. you can do it, I know you can. Rotten mother? I think not – I SOOOOO remember those days. You know where to find me if you need to b*tch.
Oh no, you’re not bad. A seven year old SHOULD pick up!
*I’m* bad, because Zach was so damn cranky I just stuck him up in his crib to cry, rather than hang on me and cry.
That’s bad.
You’re ranting about five more days? And then you have a WEEK kid free? And then school starts? Hello! You should be doing the happy dance of joy and love.
And make them clean up! I have my 6,3, and 1 year old working as a team every day to do what needs to be done. If you insist on it, it will happen.