Yeah, that's the punch line that I'm using for the title. But I promise that if you stick with me on this short rant that you'll laugh your a** off along with us!
So we have two kids. And another one on the way...and yes, there are days when I question my own sanity. Especially if it happens to be one of those days where people remind you about their friend who had three kids and the third one broke the mold...yeah. So I think that the hormones are really kicking in during these last 30 days because I have been on a tear lately. If I'm not crying about something then I'm probably annoyed or ticked off about something else...and I REALLY hope for everyone else in this house that it's just the hormones. (And yes, I know that they'll get worse after the birth...but please keep that to yourself and don't tell my husband or children that! I think that they don't know that yet...and I'd like to keep that a secret for now!)
Anyway. So we have two kids. Two kids that have become somewhat "spoiled" shall we say? They are just being normal kids, but they really need to be taken down a notch or two in our opinion...and yes, this is something that Brent and I are totally, 100% on the same page about. We are in perfect agreement in this. They've been pestering us lately, but I really mean just me, and things have just come to a head in the last two or three days. I'll moderate my comments here and stop and say that they're good kids. For the most part...they just need a little reminding about how good they have it.
They've become accustomed to things. Things that we buy for them. Things that we do for them. Things that we don't have to be doing. And I'll stop right here and take full responsibility for the "monsters" that we've created. Putting a child through a divorce and living in two houses is hard on a kid. It's also hard on the parents too. For so long we wanted to be the parent that did fun things, that spent time with their kids, that took them cool places ALL THE TIME because we could. And now, just like would be expected, they've gotten used to that life. They now expect those things from us all of the time.
It's got to stop.
But the last few days, the problem has been more that they don't listen. Yes, I know, just another normal kid complaint...but when you're 9 months pregnant, it's a big deal. I don't want to repeat myself 4,376 times just to get the towel picked up off of the floor of one of their bedrooms. I don't want to have to ask 792 times for some peace and quiet in the afternoons while I'm trying to rest and follow doctor's orders for them to be quiet. And today...I didn't want to tell them even ONE MORE TIME to stop slamming their bedroom doors.
While I was trying to nap.
Me, the 9 month pregnant woman.
Whose hormones are starting to rage out of control.
When I was woken up for the 3rd time from the catnap that I was trying to take by a knocking on one of their doors, or a slam of the other one's doors, or a whiny little "You aren't supposed to use the locks!" I sort of lost it.
I calmly got up out of my bed. I put on my flip flops and walked downstairs. I managed to not even glare at them on my way past their rooms to get downstairs. Then I saw Brent trying to take a nap downstairs on the couch and I went completely postal. On the kids, not Brent. I told him that I wanted their doors taken off the hinges.
He just looked at me.
Then he said "I've tried to keep them quiet so that you could rest and I've asked them repeatedly to stop playing with their doors..." (Like he was the one in trouble)
And my response was "Yes, I'm sure that you have. But just like they don't listen when we tell them other things, they're not listening now. And the only thing that I can think to do to teach them a lesson is to remove their doors."
I took a deep breath along with a long pause...and then I said "So, please go upstairs and take care of that."
Then I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwhich. (This is another lesson for them - until they can learn to appreciate the fact that they get to eat out for dinner/lunch and not to expect it, we're ALL eating nothing but sandwhiches.)
Brent happily got up from the couch, went out to the garage to get some tools...and he went upstairs and took their doors off of the hinges.
You might think that I'm mean. Maybe someone out there will think that I'm a genius. But I have a responsibility to raise my kids with some sense of manners, respect and responsibility to take with them out into the world towards other people, themselves and the things that are in their lives. And I feel that I haven't done much of that lately...and since we don't beleive in corporal punishment to any extreme, this seemed like a logical solution. Because it was either that or strangle someone...I think that I took the high road...
And yes, when I went upstairs after eating my wonderfully yummy PB&J sandwhich with pretzels and sweet tea for dinner...I laughed. I laughed out loud and hard to see them both in their rooms without any doors. I know that it was a little mean...but it was really hard not to laugh at the situation.
And when I say that I laughed, I really mean that I laughed so hard that I almost peed my pants...which isn't hard to do when you're 9 months pregnant!