I’m done. Spent. Wrecked. Blitzed. You name it.
This week I’ve tried to conquer, stomach anxieties, a flat tire, an unexpectedly flooded basement, lack of sleep, deaf children and my own self-doubt and anxieties.
The girls and I aren’t meshing this week about the household. I KNOW, I KNOW, they are six and eight years old. I KNOW, I KNOW they are children, but I am tired, tired, tired of this:
Put your shoes away. Hang up your jacket. Unpack your backpack. Unpack your lunchbox. Turn out the lights. Flush the toilet. Put your clothes in the hamper. Do not splash the tub water all over the floor. Clean up your dishes. Do not roll your eyes about doing your homework. Please go get in the car. Please wear play clothes when you climb trees not your school clothes. Did you feed the dog? Did you feed the rabbit? Is your room picked up? Did you brush your teeth? Please get up Mama is going to be late for work.
We had a family meeting at the onset of this week because I’m overlwhelmed. They were given tasks to do each day. Talking calmly and explaining is not working. Yelling is definitely not working. Taking away the DS or the computer is not working. So we tried bribery. They would get 10 cents each for doing each of their tasks for the day. They would get a 30 cent bonus if I did not have to get after them and not tantrums. They would split this money up between their Give, Save, Spend jars. I outlined how much money they would have in their jars at the end of the week, if they just did these simple things to help out.
Oh yeah, it went great the first day.
I hate being the nag. I hate how I hear them laughing and playing upstairs and I am annoyed because I know that they are not doing what they are supposed to.
I hate coming home from work, making dinner, doing homework, cleaning up dinner, getting baths, going through mail and school papers and trying to squeak in a book before bed and then coming downstairs spent. Everyone keeps telling me what a great job I’m doing. Some friends are melting my heart with kind words.
But sometimes, I want someone else to nag. I want someone else to back me up. Sometime I feel like I’m on the losing end of two against one. I want someone with a deep baritone voice to put the fear of God in them every once in awhile.
I’m trying to not sound like I’m whining. I’m just trying to keep it real. It’s not all sunshine and daisies over here. Sometimes being the only parent just plain sucks.