I enjoyed my 15 minutes of peace and quiet in the grocery store and came home to find the boys playing on the Playstation and they informed me that Princess was upstairs in the bathroom. I went up to see how she was doing to discover that she had decided to take a bath. She assured me that it would be a quick bath. However, this girl does not take "quick baths" and I had to encourage her...several times and with greater intensity...to get out. By this time, it is 9:30pm and I get PH and Peanut showered with no problems other than a firm reminder from Peanut that he is out of Jammie pants (because he insists he can only wear his PJ's one time before they are dirty and yet he can wear his favorite shirt for 3 days in a row if I let him).
BB is next in line. He begins to fuss and fight. And whine. And grumble. And complain. I decide that this is not a hill I am willing to die on, on this day, and state that he will take a shower first thing in the morning.
He agrees but I know him well enough to know that this will not be as simple as it sounds to the naked ear. The boy likes to fight about bathing, as if it is a shower of acid I am forcing him in to instead of mere soap and water. Sometimes he will playfully yell out, "It burns...it burns..." And I tease back, "Honey, that is just the yuck coming off. The germs are upset that they must un-inhabit your body but soon, the soap will take over and all will feel good again. And you will smell better." He giggles.
Sunday morning rolls around and I went down to the kitchen to fix a salad I would need for the last stop in our adventure. I informed him that the shower was impending in "T minus 10 minutes". He begins to grumble. I have learned, because I am smart and adaptable, and from many a similar battle and several sessions in therapy, that this is merely part of the dance and not to get upset when he starts to gripe.
Things did not go smoothly. Everyone was tired and everyone needed coaxing to get up and get dressed. PH argued with me about his church attired. He insisted that jeans make his legs too cold so he should be able to wear sweat pants. I insisted that on Sunday morning, I get to choose his wardrobe but in the afternoon, he could change. We did not even require a notary to witness that agreement but it took several minutes to strike it. Peanut does better with picking appropriate church clothes. He is all about solid colors these days. And he likes to wear 1 color. Unless it is his favorite green striped shirt which he insists is Everyone's Favorite. Thankfully, it was clean. But then he struggled with getting his pants buttoned.
Princess has wardrobe issues as well. She has a severe lack of appropriate clothing for church. She has grown a lot this year and no longer fits in the girl's section of the store and yet the styles in the juniors department are not appropriate nor are they too her taste. Not to mention we have to figure out what her size is. It took a while to find an outfit. I picked out her very cute sweater with a nice white T-shirt under it but she fussed because "you can see my bra". I should not complain about her modesty. I should celebrate it because quite frankly, there are too many girls showing bra straps and thongs these days who would not be offended when their mothers suggest that the sweater will cover it up just fine.
Now I am finally getting myself ready. Then I have to look for socks. I am several days past due for laundry so...I had to look for slightly less dirty socks for the boys to wear. Everyone was fussing and dragging their feet as we try to get out the door. I generally try to leave the house at 9am so that we have time for donuts before church. It's my incentive for getting everyone ready on time. We did not get out the door until 9:25 so I declared that I would be passing out cereal bars and there would be NO DONUTS this morning and that this was a consequence of everyone being so UNCOOPERATIVE with me.
In the middle of this, Someone, and no one seemed to know which Someone, took PH's gift out of it's packaging. There were two suspects but neither would confess. I had to let it go of that and find a way to salvage the situation for PH. And we did with a minimal amount of yelling and no bloodshed or bruising.
Fast-forward through church. Lunch at McDonald's. My kids, sadly, have become quite particular about their food. I ask them what they want but I should not really bother. It's the same...Princess and BB want Double Cheeseburgers with NO PICKLES and NO ONIONS (or else!!), PH wants Chicken Nuggets and Peanut wants a burger with EXTRA PICKLES....I try to tease the cashier and ask for a Pickle Burger. Sometimes they laugh. Today, the cashier was new or a little low on IQ points because she did not get anything right.
I told my kids, who started to fuss about it, that they would need to deal with it politely and if they did, there would be ice cream. Isn't it interesting that I got no complaints? I thought so too. I highly recommend using the strategy of denying them ice cream for months at a time so that when you really, really need it, you can offer this incentive and it is very effective.
After lunch, we began our Crazy afternoon. First stop, Home. PH reminded me that I promised he could change into sweat pants that do not make his legs cold the way jeans do. Peanut needed to get his winter gear so he could go to his Tubing party at Ecko Baken. I needed to change out of my church clothes and I Highly Recommended that everyone use the bathroom before we left or they would be holding it for a quite a while. Some followed my advice, some did not. But the Did Not's now know why I Highly Recommended and hopefully, a lesson was learned.
Next Stop, Scandia and Ecko Baken to drop off Peanut. He looked both excited and slightly terrified. It's a good sign that he is going to have a good time. I hug and kiss him and tell him I will see him a couple of hours.
Next stop, Oakdale to Pump It Up to drop off PH. En Route, BB broke his lego creation and was screaming his head off, which was punching through my skull like an iron spike because he couldn't get it back together. I suggested that if he waited until I got to Pump It Up, I could take a look at it and he screamed, "What can YOU do about it? You never ever LOOKED at the directions?"
Now I am insulted and my migraine is flaring up and I would like nothing better than to stop the car, and break his lego creation into tinier pieces with a haughty, "There! How do you like that?" But, I am the grown-up and have more restraint than to act upon my impulses and I tried very hard to stay patient and kind while every ear piercing scream drove the spike of pain deeper into my head, moving down my face, over my eye and settling into my teeth.
I snapped, "You know what, screaming at me is not going to change anything!! All it does is make me angry. "
He answers, "I don't care!"
I reply, "I don't care either."
That was really mature I know. Migraine headaches and 3 hours in the car is enough to drive any mother to the brink.
But the kid got real quiet after that. He made a few more squeaks about his legos. But the screaming stopped. I don't recommend the method even if it was effective.
Next stop, back up to Ecko Baken to pick up Peanut. He is slowly eating cake and ice cream and looking sad. Apparently, he got forgotten in the group and had to find another way in to the building. He was also mad at me because I left and I was supposed to stay. However, I explained to him that I was invited to stay but I had told the parents I could not because I was driving his brother to another party.
Next stop, back down to Pump It Up to pick up PH. He is excited. He declares, "I want to come here for my birthday!"
Next stop, Eagle's Nest in New Brighton. The kids can play and I can have some adult conversation. My head is still pounding but I am distracted for a while.
Finally, at 8pm, we arrive home. Whew!
9pm...the door knob from the garage to the kitchen falls off. Terr-if-ic.
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