I had this grand dream when my kids were toddlers. We were going to be so happy. They would start school, and things would run as smooth as clockwork. The kids were going to have chores, and appreciate pitching in to help the family. We were going to have delicious family meals every night, where everyone would praise my cooking and want seconds, thirds, even fourths. There would be a set schedule. The kids would know this schedule, appreciate this schedule, we would stick to it, and life would be all rainbows, giggles, and unicorns. After all, I watch television, this is what happens.
I am apparently killing my children very slowly. It is a long, agonizing death due to real life and the realities of growing up. How do I know they are dying? They lay prostrate on the floor, appendages splayed, moaning and complaining. I am a mean, horrible parent who just likes to ruin lives and zap all fun from the universe.
5 Things That Are Killing My Kids
Yep, I’m killing my children, and here are their top five complaints:
Now don’t get me wrong, I am in the camp that thinks most kids have too much homework these days. Kids have less and less time to just be kids. My kids, however, have very little homework compared to some. If they would just get home and do it, it would take twenty minutes at most. They NEVER just get home and do it, though. They have to argue and complain and cry about how I’m so mean for making them actually do what their teacher has assigned them. Every day. This is every single day. They know it’s coming! But, I’m still the ogre that stifles their joy and ruins their day with such tediousness.
2) Bath Time
I remember liking bath time as a kid. My kids, however, seem to think I fill the bathtub with acid. They fight and cry about who is going to volunteer as tribute first. They cry and whine that the water is too hot. If I tell them they need to wash their hair, you’d think the world was coming to an end. Hey, I’m just trying to protect the world from their stentch and filth. My children, however, would have you think they are made of sugar, and melt when they touch the water.
3) Any Food I Make
I don’t mean to pat myself on the back, but I can cook! My kids, though, would have you believe I’m trying to poison them with every single meal. “Ew. This is disgusting. I’m not eating it. I won’t eat it. It stinks.” Every night. Every single night it’s the same drama. Hotdogs, spaghetti, chicken salad, enchiladas … it’s all “gross.” They’d rather be hungry than eat my food.
Sloths. I’m raising sloths who take sixteen times longer than they should to do chores. And, there is complaining loudly the entire time. There is literal laying on the floor and saying, “It will take too long.” Hello! They could have been done in the thirty minutes it took them to roll all over the floor and hate me.
You’d think this didn’t occur every night. They are SHOCKED when eight o’clock rolls around, and it’s time for bed. They spontaneously forget how to walk. When we finally get them in bed, they don’t remember how to cover up. Oops, they forgot to brush their teeth. They are all of a sudden sleeping in the desert, and will die without water. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. They still see some light outside.
Yes, my kids might not make it to adulthood, because I’m a mean, ogre of a mom who makes her kids be civil human beings. They’d just as soon have me raise brats who live as they did in Lord of the Flies. Not going to happen. I guess they’re going to have to die from being contributing members of society. Someday, they’ll see it was love … maybe.