1. The little one declares he wants a "maynades" sandwich. When I insist it also have ham (which he loves), he throws a whopper of a tantrum and refuses to do anything but lick the bread. This goes on for roughly 1172 hours.
2. The big kid lies about whether or not he has finished his chores. Then he fahking rolls his eyes at me. My head spins around Exorcist style and pea-green soup shoots out of my mouth-head-hole. Uhh, I mean I had a totally appropriate and mature reaction. Needless to say he is grounded with extra chores to do, one of which he appears to be simply incapable of completing. This further enrages the
3. The big kid is doing Scouts this year. I wasn't expecting to be the person doing the majority of the work on the parenting side for that. I don't have a lot of time to give to an extra activity, especially not one this involved if he wants to catch up (last year's Scout master was relaxed and by "relaxed" I mean lazy ... to the point that I had no idea Stomp was supposed to be working towards badges, etc at home...now we're trying to do that). But here I am, doing it, because someone has to and that someone is always me.
4. Baby kid is working on some regular old pre-school curriculum stuff. Which would be fine, except that he already knows all the pre-school curriculum stuff. So we've moved onto Kindergarten curriculum stuff. Since he's, y'know, *3* and already reading and stuff. So working on that with him has led to him wanting to potty train which is supah-mutha-fahking-fantastic! But it *does* mean trotting to the bathroom with him every time he feels the slightest inclination or urge or, occasionally, when he just wants to sit on the toilet and read Curious George books in there.
5. I can access Stomp's grades from home. In doing so, I have several concerns about classes he's taking, but I'm also terribly confused by this state's grading system (an 80 is a C? a 70 is a D-...WTF?). So I have emails into the teachers of classes he's having trouble with and hoping to get a handle on that before things get worse. It's hard for me. I loved school. I'm confused by a kid who doesn't love school. And one of the classes he's struggling with is writing. I stared at him and said "why didn't you ask for me help, Stomp? I'm a writer". He said, I shit you not, "I didn't think you were a REAL writer". Thanks a fahk-ton, kid.
6. I don't have the boys for Halloween but I'm still responsible for finding their costumes (Stomp wants to be a Patriots player and the baby wants to, naturally, be Big Papi...Papi's a designated hitter, so we told him he could be a Red Sox player, just not Papi..No one wants to give that kid a bat) and for decorating the house and making it feel like Halloween is happening here. Even though it isn't.
Motherhood is exhausting, y'all. And to think, I add even more shit to my plate starting in less than a week. But, before I do that, I get to trot up to my niece's house for a day of beauty. It will be nice to be pampered first. I deserve it after this last week.