…or the battles that I lose but trying to win…
The kids went a little bit overboarded today when PP’s friend came over after school. They somehow lost their self control and became so impulsive. I don’t mind them running around the house and playing but my kids tend to forget that this is their home. They trashed every single room except for my bedroom and after the friend left they just went off acting like the mess they made were non existent.
Arghhhh….pulling my hair out.
I later asked them if it ever occurred to them that they needed to clean their own mess after they caused the mess. PP was being honest and said no, that he thought it was ok to pull all of the new freshly laundered bedsheets and pillows and carton boxes and litter them around the house as part of their play with his best friend.
I am still appalled, mostly at my own self because what the fuck have I been teaching him that he thinks it is perfectly fine to leave the mess for me to clean up? Perhaps I have been acting like their in-house servant that in their minds I am only regarded as such. I swear, I have been trying out different methods to get them knowing their chores and responsibilities on daily basis, and that’s why I am so appalled that all my tryings became vain to the point that he didn’t even register that he needed to pick up after himself, particularly when he trashed the house that way.
Another battle was clothes, a mixed of clean and dirty, got thrown together on the beds, especially on PP’s bed. He rushed through very quickly so he can play instead of putting dirty ones in the laundry basket that is just a mere three-step away. My pet peeve!!!
I gave them 10-minute clean up time and after the timer went off they just did every thing half-ass, and I hate half-ass job. PP reasoned that he thought he only needed to do it for 10 minutes didn’t think he need to continue after 10 minutes. Say what??? I speak English, not Vietnamese, not Dutch, not Congolese. I spoke English to him, his primary language of communication. Didn’t I make my freaking self clear with instructions or were you selectively deaf when I talked? I just wanted to scream all my guts out, blood and innards and shit from the bottom of my ass and all — that moment was just so painful for me!
Then right before bedtime, the little guy threw a bouts of tantrums. Fucking tantrums at 6 years old? Again, what have I done wrong? I constantly accuse myself of doing wrong because they spend most of their time with me and if they act like parentless children then that must be my fault. I have to get out of this parenting mentality but sometimes it’s so hard when I am stuck in a gutter of helplessness.
I think parents who don’t yell at their kids are living saints. How do they do it? What have I done wrong? Should I lower my expectations and just let them be free and be kids of their own age?
Yahhh, I know just a few posts ago I said about the joy of being a stay-at-home mom and all that shit. Well, today isn’t that one perfect day, okay? Today is a day I just want to pull all my hair out and scream all the feces out of me and into their faces and tell them to stay away from me. But apparently after I yelled and felt the guilt eating me inside out I told myself that I needed to be calm and cool and collected and pretend to be sane and rosey and huggy and all fucking butterflies to my kids who just gave me a few hours of aging hell. I should have won an Oscar for the best acting gig.
My kids are not angels, and I am not a saint.