Thursday, May 26, 2011

When you live in MY house, you live by MY rules!

I KNOW. Can you believe I stooped that low? I can't.

I mean, it's the ultimate cliche phrase; the one I'd sworn against my entire life.

"If you utter That Phrase, you are just asking for your child to yell back 'Then I'm OUT of here!' as they run off to Vegas."

(That? That is what I used to consider MY phrase.)

And now? I'm the cliche-slinging, ranting mother who stomped her foot at her 12 year old and called out "Bullshit!" when he proclaimed to not need to help clean the house and that HE didn't CARE if it was messy.


Yep. Mommy has left the building and MOTHER has entered.

In my defense, there really is only so much a person can handle. I can handle daily chores. I can handle a little sigh as they have to pause a show or game or book in order to put clothing away or take the garbage out. I GET IT. It's not fun to do housework. OBVIOUSLY.

But what I don't understand is how I have arrived at this stage in my life where my boys are combative about ANY chore or basic duty that a human being needs to accomplish. I'm astounded.

And I actually threatened* to take ALL clothing but 2 shirts and 2 pants from Justin's room so that he is always doing his own laundry and always knows where his shit is. I am sick and tired of being the only person in this house that can find a clean shirt** or pair of socks***.

I'll bet all of your kids are just JUMPING at the chance to visit my house, right?!?

*(and am still considering following up on!)

**(in the drawer! Shocking!)

***(I looked in the sock basket because I'm all Sherlock Holmes-ish like that)
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