Last week I met up with my good friend Krista for lunch after picking JT up from preschool. Luckily we had been having a similar day and both showed up late. Hers was full of a fit throwing freshly 3 year old and mine was full of the always fun game of 5,000 questions.
From the moment the kids rolled out of bed they were at each others throats, and down mine with the "Bub Bub said.." " Ellie is not..." game. But the moment that JT got in the van from school the focus of the game turned from each other (which is bad enough) to me.
The drive went something like this:
"Are we there yet"
-no-
"I'm hungry"
-good, we are going to eat lunch with Ms. Christmas-
"We are going to Ms. Christmas' house?"
- no, we are going to Firehouse for subs-
"but I am hungry"
-we are going.. to.. get.. food-
"we are going to Dexter's house?"
SERIOUSLY????? I was not aware this conversation was that hard to grasp. Obviously I was wrong.
After this fun conversation was over JT jumps in with " Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy. Look" I cant look baby I am driving. " Mommy look at me , look at this , watch" Baby I cant watch you right now I am driving so please stop yelling at me. "well then just stop"
Apparently they made a meme just for me. See?
I thought that the day was an isolated event. And then I found out today that I was mistaken. More of the same questions.. "Are you done yet?" " Now?" "Now I can have candy?" "where are we going?" "Who is coming over?"
I am not sure how it happened but my children have this notion that the only time they have to clean up the toy room is if someone is coming over. I talk to them daily about cleaning up after themselves, they see me do the dishes and clean up every single day. They hear me talk about cleaning and even help with the chores. They feed the dogs and they run the vacuum ( mind you its usually after I have already done it but they feel like they are helping ) They put all the shoes on the steps and they take their toys from the living room to the toy room. The even occasionally help with dishes or laundry. Heaven forbid I ask them to clean up their toys if there is not company coming. This is where they draw the line.
There are days when motherhood is fabulous. Where it's rewarding, where you watch adoringly at your children as they drift off to sleep and think to yourself, man, this job is actually pretty stinkin' awesome, why would anyone want to do anything else other than this?
Then there are days where you sneak off with the candy stash and lock yourself in the bathroom. Days where you are willing to beg steal or borrow for 5 minutes of silence, and as they {FINALLY} drift off 35 minutes past their bed times, you think-- kind of out loud; holy mother of pearls I would auction off the middle one for a foot rub and an adult conversation.
Disclaimer: I generally offer up the middle kid in trade for things. You can really pick whichever you like, just not the baby.. I am oddly fond of that one already.
Moral of this story, if you are preparing yourself for the preschool years I am willing to offer up my very best advice. Bottle up your patience, you are going to need it. And practice by having someone fire questions at you of no particular relation, without giving you time to answer. I would tell you that once you have mastered this that you are well and prepared, but then one of them will inevitably announce in an echoing room that the little old lady in front of you farted, and for that my friend, you will have no words. But I bet you can imagine how fast your face will turn beat red, especially when said kid (ahem... the middle one) repeats it even louder, and then giggles like the 2 year old she is and follows it up with a pretend gag, mimicked after your fun morning sickness from the last pregnancy.
Tact.
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