The Business of Kids?

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I found a dust pan in my toilet- and sadly, that was a relief.  No really, I did, and it was.  I have witnesses. Finding my dust pan in the bathroom is why, though I hardly ever leave my house, I’m exhausted. It’s also likely why, though I don’t cry much, I feel like crying at any given moment.  It’s why I”m afraid to sit down.  It’s why we can’t have nice things.

Today my three-year-old has been doing that fake cry thing where he throws himself on the floor and screams.  Why? Because he’s full, “up to my neck” he says.  So he wants me to make him toast, but I tell him to finish the lunch he didn’t touch.  “But I’m full!!! Now make me toast right now!!!!!!!!”  Repeat, I kid you not, for the next five hours. During that time, I’m cleaning and doing school with the seven-year-old and painting the trim of our house.

Ohhhhhhhh THE TRIM.  I’ve painted it three times now.  First, because it was hideous- the 80’s called and they wanted their golden oak back.  So I sanded, painted, and then painted again.  Well, primed then painted.  Waited for the coats to dry, repeated.  Finally, I was done, and the white looked so gorgeous, and I was so happy!!! I backed away from the stairs to look upon my shiny new white railing, and just then, my oldest came sliding down the stairs with…nails on his fingers…digging into the painted railing. Like blood oozing out from a deep cut, came the oak and then, my heart.  My bleeding, bleeding heart. “It adds character.” I thought.  It will be a story!!!  A few minutes later, came my three-year-old (then two) with his dump truck, on the railing.  “Oooh, paint!!!”  He noticed it scratched, so he helped it along on purpose.  Like peeling the skin from the sunburn.  I did everything the way I was supposed to, why is it peeling??!! I re-read all the do-it-yourself blogs, and I did everything how I was supposed to.  So why, why was it peeling??!! Kids.  That’s why.  Kids. They are born with this superhuman power- all they have to do is touch something and POOF, it’s done for.  I cried internally for a bit and moved on from the railing.  Can’t win them all, right? Flash forward to a year later, I finally felt ready to re-paint everything, again.  I get everything all ready and touch up all the peeled off places (yes, I even sanded again).  Oh man!!! It looked so good; it was so satisfying.  Everything dried and seemed to last- even with the kids.  As I was vacuuming, however, I kept finding these little white flaky things all over the floor…as I followed their track, I realized they were from the trim behind the curtains. Those little twerps!!!! The somehow peeled that.  Then, I looked around…and it was as if a little paint peeling elf had gone all over the house.  I only hung my head in defeat, and in complete rage tore, even more, paint off.  If you can’t beat them, join them right?!  The kids thought this was awesome and began peeling places that hadn’t yet been peeled.  “Mom is the best!!! We get to peel this all!!!’  It wasn’t really what I had in mind, but hell…whatever. Flash forward to today, about six months later.  Today, I claim victory.  Despair and victory.  I sanded, primed, and painted again.  But this time, oh this time, I was armed!  With craft gloss sealing spray.  Because kids.  Don’t judge.  I let all the paint dry, opened all the windows despite that is was freezing out, and sprayed all the trim with craft sealing spray.  Yup. Because I win.  I’m in the business of winning! Because I will have nice trim dangit!!!!!! And the kids, they lose.  Losers.  Pffft. No, but really, I was tempted to take out a business loan with Square Capital Funding, so that I could hire someone else to do all that nonsense.  But I decided I liked the battle….a little.

Anyways, that dust pan in my toilet thing. So my oldest son walked into the bathroom and told me I better look.  I was afraid.  No, I was terrified.  No, I was shaking in my Uggs, about to pee/cry/laugh go insane.  And I’m medicated you’ll.  Anyways.  What will I find in there?  Poop all over the wall? Not like I haven’t seen that.  What about kitchen utensils in the toilet? Been there.  The sink overfilling and flooding the bathroom? Check. Oh oh!!!  Dogs that got into the paint buckets that were locked in the linen closet??  Pfft, been there.  You can still see puppy paw prints even!! And in my favorite gray color too.  So I sat there, scared to look in that bathroom, but just too curious.  I walked in, trembling…to see that glorious dust pan in the toilet.  I exhaled, giggled, and thanked our glorious savior that it wasn’t that bad.

Anyways, I spend most mornings feeding the twerps beautiful children in whom I bore in my womb then cleaning up after them.   I finally make my breakfast and sit down.  Then it happens- my oldest son grabs the other chair and moves it AS CLOSE AS POSSIBLE to me.  He leans on my left arm and says, “I love my Mommy snuggle time. Ohhh..what’s that? Can I have it?”  I say, “no.” He replies, “then can you go make it for me?” I say, “No.” Then he proceeds to beg me- on my left shoulder (I’ve left handed mind you, so everytime I move my arm his head moves with it) for the entire duration of my breakfast.  Which, is about two minutes because I give up and just give him the &*45!@! food.  I could loose some weight anyways, you know?

After I they eat my their meals, I tell Ayden to get his pencil and paper for school.  He sits down and starts to do his writing for the day. Like nails on a chalkboard, I hear it.  The first, “wwwww oooh hh hh maaaaaannnn” of the school day. With tears.  Afraid to ask, but to know I need to act at least like I care, I ask what’s wrong. The conversation goes like this;

Ayden: I made a mistake and…and….(now crying) I don’t have an eraser, so I have to start all over

Me: Why don’t you have an eraser?

Ayden: Because I eat them off (more crying).

Me:  So whose fault is this, and who can do something about it?

Ayden: Me, but I just…I’m so tired, and there are no erasers because I eat them! Whyyyyyyyyyyy does I have to…(now he’s weeping folks) eat my erasers??!! I don’t understand why I, waaaaaaa dooooo thaaaaat.

Me:  Say nothing, slowly back away and get the wine. It’s only 9 am but, sanity folks…sanity.  I’m convinced any mother that has not gone off the deep end drank a lot of wine.

Sometimes wine, though, makes me have to use the bathroom.  So I run into the powder room trying very hard not to have an accident (because, childbirth…because…kids) and come to a screeching halt.  I don’t see the roll of TP; just the TP rolled out all over the floor.  Knowing this is my oldest sons doing, I know what’s next.  Muddy footprints on the toilet seat. Yeah, you read that right.  The kid struggles when it comes to number 2, ok?  Before it was even a thing, he decided to squat was easier. So, he um, squats.  With muddy feet from being outside.  Also- he’s very passionate about not using too much TP, so he uses teeny tiny little squares and tosses them behind him hoping they make it in. Which they don’t because…squatting. Because kids.  I digress.  As I’m about to pee my pants, I see the horror that is the bathroom after my oldest has used it.  Do I clean it real quick?  Do I deal and just, go??  At this rate, going outside would be cleaner….I momentarily consider it before I realize there are no trees and no privacy.  But alas, I’m a Mom, and this is a lesson to be learned.  I yell for my son to make him clean it up and pray for the entire twenty minutes it takes because I still really have to go.  FINALLY, he’s done, and I can pee.  So…I sit down and the bathroom door slams open. “Mom, I can’t figure out this math problem” yells Ayden.  At this point I’m just, are you freaking kidding me?!  Behind Ayden runs in a naked three-year-old- “Mom, fix my jammies so I can put them on!!!!” Behind him comes the cat, being chased by both dogs.  I sigh. I explain the math. I fix the jammies; I shoo the animals. I forget to pee.  I get up and wash my hands anyways, because of kids.

In my distress, I was messaging a friend, and she kindly reminded me I don’t even have a car, and can’t even drive my van off a cliff.  She even had a truck picture to help illustrate.  The reality is so dang hard, you know???

And that’s why we can’t have nice things.  Because of kids.  Because of poop.  Because of boys.  Because a dust pan in a toilet is a relief.  Because we forget to pee.  Because our carpet will also look gross and we’ll long for Red River Carpet Cleaning to save the day. Because we’re staying at home Moms. Because of kids. Because I’m exhausted.  Because we love them anyways. Because of dangit, we love the little twerps. And wine. We love wine.