There are things that I have to say so often, with little or no effect, that sometimes I think I’ll go mad if I have to say them even one more time. Yet I do - over and over again. I’m sitting here right now, trying to eat my breakfast in peace, and my blood is near boiling because with just 9 days of school left people around here STILL CANNOT REMEMBER WHAT TO DO TO GET READY FOR SCHOOL!
Here is the list of things I will repeat at least three times each in the next 45 minutes:
1) Are you dressed? (After I ask this, they
Here is the list of things I will repeat at least three times each in the next 45 minutes:
1) Are you dressed? (After I ask this, they
always
ask for a weather report as if the windows of our home were opaque.)
2) Is your room picked up?
3) Have you fed your pet?
4) Have you put away the clean dishes?
5) Stop reading that book right now and get ready for school.
6) Brush your hair.
7) Brush your teeth.
8) Get shoes on.
9) No, not those shoes, go get your other ones.
10) Where is your backpack?
11) Stop fighting with your brother/sister and get moving!
These are the same things they have had to do every morning of the school year - every school year. I have made reminder lists and check off sheets and given bribes and punishments. Nothing helps - at least not for long. I am doomed to be frozen in their memories as a gigantic nag and they will grow up and complain about me and promise their spouses to “never sound like my mother.” Really though, the fault here is not mine. It’s their goldfish-like attention span and the joy they take in watching me lose my mind. It has become almost a sport for them - or an art form. The day that I have to be dragged away drooling and mumbling under my breath, “Didyoucleanoutthelitterbox? Whereisyourhomework?” they will all do a triumphant dance in the driveway.
As I sit here typing, Hayden just plopped himself down next to me. He wants to discuss whether or not The Poodle will go to heaven when she dies. He has not yet completed six of the above items and there are only 25 minutes left and he wants to discuss poodles and theology. I quit.
2) Is your room picked up?
3) Have you fed your pet?
4) Have you put away the clean dishes?
5) Stop reading that book right now and get ready for school.
6) Brush your hair.
7) Brush your teeth.
8) Get shoes on.
9) No, not those shoes, go get your other ones.
10) Where is your backpack?
11) Stop fighting with your brother/sister and get moving!
These are the same things they have had to do every morning of the school year - every school year. I have made reminder lists and check off sheets and given bribes and punishments. Nothing helps - at least not for long. I am doomed to be frozen in their memories as a gigantic nag and they will grow up and complain about me and promise their spouses to “never sound like my mother.” Really though, the fault here is not mine. It’s their goldfish-like attention span and the joy they take in watching me lose my mind. It has become almost a sport for them - or an art form. The day that I have to be dragged away drooling and mumbling under my breath, “Didyoucleanoutthelitterbox? Whereisyourhomework?” they will all do a triumphant dance in the driveway.
As I sit here typing, Hayden just plopped himself down next to me. He wants to discuss whether or not The Poodle will go to heaven when she dies. He has not yet completed six of the above items and there are only 25 minutes left and he wants to discuss poodles and theology. I quit.
No comments:
Post a Comment