Last week, we had a couple of days where it would start pouring rain all of a sudden. Sometimes the kids are good sports about it, sometimes not so much. So I came up with the 'brilliant' idea of going to the toy store to look for some fun indoor crafts we could all do together.
Go ahead, start laughing.
I also wanted to get T a stuffed animal. I have no idea what happened to the puppy he used to have, but it's nowhere to be found. S has a ton of stuffed animals in her room, but T only wants a dog, and S isn't inclined to share her puppy because it's her favorite one. Our cousins Jenn and Jeff sent her a stuffed giraffe, which she also loves, but will share. Unfortunately, because it's not a dog, T abuses that poor thing, S screams bloody murder, I end up with two kids in time out and having to put up 'Raffe. Sigh... no one wins. Since I was planning on going to the toy store anyway, I figured it would be no problem to pick up a stuffed dog for T.
Have you seen the price of stuffed animals lately? SHEESH! There wasn't a huge selection available, and of the available dogs, a tiny one was 8 Euro. Of course, the BX on base didn't even have a stuffed dog, so you get what you get, right? So, I'm thinking about it and I'm not sure how to get T a dog without getting S one and there not being a huge scene. I'm also grateful that the kids weren't with me because there was a beautiful Siberian Husky dog there - for 45 Euro. Obviously, there was no way I was buying that one. I ended up with the small dog for S, and a decent sized dog for T what kinda looks like the dog from the Beethoven movies, but with no slobber. BONUS! Of course, the two dogs exhausted my budget so no crafts for us.
The great news is that the kids were so excited to get the puppies - T named both of them. His dog is Shep and S's is Friday (names pulled from the movie Hotel for Dogs, of course). Later on in the day, we are home and S has a poopy diaper. As I'm changing her, she grabs Friday and swipes him through the poop. As I'm fussing at her for doing that (these stuffed animals aren't washing machine washable, unfortunately), she grabs Shep and throws him in between her legs into the poop too. Grrrrrrr..... Of course, then she throws the dog, and wiggles enough so that now there's poop on the floor where she is and on her clothes, plus on both new stuffed animals and where ever they landed as she threw them. I am convinced that I'm temporarily inhabited by my Grandmother, because I start muttering about a house that smells like poop and having to clean the carpet, which descends into how much money I spent on the dogs and how my kids don't appreciate how much things cost and in this economy they are lucky we have enough food to eat - all those starving children in Africa and China mind you - and how the house is always a mess and I AM NOT A MAID!!!!!! The kids, completely unmoved by my tirade, immediately move on to the next thing that captures their interest while I feel (a little drama queen-ish if the truth be told) like I'm up to my neck in poop. It take me the better part of an hour to clean the carpet and dogs to my satisfaction, at which the kids sense weakness in me since I've stopped muttering, and coordinate a perfectly planned pushing my buttons attack, and start fighting over the dogs. And then - AND THEN - T has the audacity to say something about Shep being yucky because he's wet (because I cleaned all the s**t off of him, thankyouverymuch) and starts to pitch a temper tantrum of ear splitting proportions. S, not to be outdone, joins in. Hooray. I yell at them to CUT. IT. OUT!!!!!! which only makes it worse, so I end up putting myself in timeout so that I don't completely lose my mind. I flop down on the floor in the playroom and silently wonder why this is all so hard. Do all parents feel like this? Am I just spectacularly bad at being a Mom? Was I like this as a kid, too? The questions go on and on...
Then I notice that T has walked up and is sitting quietly at my feet. "T", I say as calmly as possible, "Mommy has put herself in a time out and she needs to be left alone until it's over."
T pats me on the leg, "Mommy, why are you in a timeout?"
"Because I yelled at you and S and we don't yell or speak to each other the way I was speaking to you and S."
"Oh."
"The rules apply to Mom and Dad, too."
"Oh, right, right"
"You know, T, I try to be a good Mommy, really I do, but some days I'm just not very good at it, and I'm sorry."
(Big sigh) "I know, Mommy. It's hard. It's just hard to be a mommy."
Word!
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