Monday, November 29, 2010

Mission Impossible

I have had to wait a while before I wrote this head felt like it was going to blow off from the stress of getting two boys off to the sitter who are currently playing the game..let's drive mom around the bend once and for all!!!  I feel like I'm trapped inside of a Gordian knot....They are entering the phase that parenting experts call know,

 "I want this, not that, now I changed my mind, what? You're still trying to reason with me?  Take THAT peon, I just changed my mind again, but inside of my head this time, and I didn't tell you, HA!  What, you want me to spoonfeed you here.... don't give me the crying face, why are you crying too?  If you can't take the heat, get out of the toyroom...."

So this morning I'm trying to rush around and get the boys something to eat so I can go and get ready for work.  I pour them some cereal, with CHOCOLATE MILK AND WHITE MILK ALL MIXED TOGETHER!!  Fine, I can do that,  you're being a bit of a putz but nothing I can't handle.  So I go to hand the bowl to Zac and his face gets all crumply and the morning tears start springing forth.....  he wails..., are you ready for this....."  NO!!! I want the chocolate milk on the TOP and the white milk on the BOTTOM!

What's that now.....?

You want me to bend the laws of Newtonian Physics?  Make up new rules of how matter comes together in the universe so you can properly enjoy your breakfast?  I mean, is that such an unreasonable thing to ask...  Wait, I'll check with God.


Sorry Buddy, God says you are being a poopface and I don't have to play this game with you.  You may commence the screaming now.

Now we turn to the brother.  It takes a Herculean effort and 20 full minutes to go from standing in the porch to getting in the car.  Something that I can usually accomplish in, oh, say about 17 seconds on my own.  Enter the second half of the Mission Impossible Team.  Tom Cruise has nothing on these cutie pies, believe me.

I go to strap Marcus into his car seat, he has a juice box in one hand and a granola bar in the other and he cries, "I cannnnn'tttt doooooo iiiiitttt,    Hellllppp......" Whaa, whaa, whaa......"

I take him under the arms and hoist him into his car seat....and try to buckle him in, then he starts,  "NO! I WANT TO DO IT MYSELF!!!!"

Oh, do you mean you want to do the thing yourself that you just whined about not being able to do yourself?

 I just need to clarify here....

This is after a giant tantrum because I had to put the plastic bird back into the house because the full 5 minutes I gave him to do it was clearly not enough time to place an object on a horizontal surface to his liking.

So now I'm trying to wrestle him into his car seat, despite the cirque du soleil full body contortions he is pulling.  My blood pressure is rising and by blood sugar is dropping, not a good combination.... I finally get him in an slam car door to drown out the screaming.  I scream out a few choice words beginning with the letter F, the neighbors are probably wondering by now if I have a very driveway specific form of Tourette's.....

So I finally start to drive them to the sitters, and Marcus notices that the zipper on his boot is down about 1/8 of an inch...  He starts screaming..."MYYYYY BOOOOOOOT!!  You have to ZIP IT UPPPPPPPP!"  I listen to this until I get to the sitters and get out of the car in the driveway to calm him down.   I offer to zip up his boot, but no go people.


So, what you need then,  is for me to find the time to drive back home, to the point where the zipper issue originated to rectify the situation.  Well let me check my blackberry to see if it fits with my schedule....


I throw them into the sitter's house and run for it, swearing all way to my car.  Turns out my Tourette's is not just specific to my driveway.....

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