I don't blog about the fact that my kids are never good pupils on the same day.
I don't blog about the fact that on the days Simon is cooperative, Felix is a whiner and vice versa. It's not every day, but it's been tough to get their butts back in gear after Christmas break. Not sure if it's a flaw in my parenting. Not sure if it's a sign that I shouldn't be homeschooling. Not sure if it's just my kids being kids. I don't know, but I muddle through and usually we are able to find some high points. At the end of the day, something's getting through. They may complain about reading, but they're both pretty dang good at it. They may take an hour to answer five stinking math problems by the time they've whined and had a drink and had a snack and whined some more, but at least they can do 'em.
I don't blog about the fact that I'm the teeniest bit resentful towards my husband for not demanding I come back to San Antonio with him. Even if it makes no sense at all. I know it's irrational and unfair, that's why I don't blog about it. I don't blog about the fact that I get pretty freakin' ticked off at bedtime when I'm having to put three kids away for the night all by myself. Especially when the big two find a flashlight and want to read. Loudly. OH THE IRONY of that. Neither one of 'em want to read during my normal business hours. They only want to read when it's a distraction to getting the little one in bed. The little one who wants me to curl up next to him until he's fast asleep. Not almost asleep. Not so tired he can't keep his eyes open asleep. I'm talking half way into his first REM cycle. Tonight, he literally wrapped himself around my arm and curled himself in a way that would not have allowed me to move if I'd wanted to. I have to slither to the ground after he's doing that puppy dog running in his sleep paw movements. I am owned by a two year old.
Yes, I'm the adult. Yes, I have the authority. Truth is, they don't care. They run the show 99% of the time. So there, that's some real blogging. Life is not all sunshine and lollipops. I'm not hiding it, I just don't think it makes for a good read. My kids are awesome and I love them and I have dedicated my very existence to them, but they are exhausting. As all kids are. Do I really need to blog about it? Do I need to explain why I am in a funk at the end of the day when I just want to sit and listen to the silence and can't because there are still kids hanging on me? That's just real life.
What makes for a good read is the funny parts of life. Thankfully, kids give lots of those throughout the day.
Like when something happens that pushes us right into the current state in which we live.
It's worse than the never changing landscape of the town.
It's worse than hearing the same country songs I used to listen to in a certain VW convertible. And NOT changing the station. And actually singing along. And kinda liking it.
It's worse than the little bit of twang my kids are picking up.
It's Spiderman slippers, nay...house shoes.
It's Spiderman house shoes that happen to be T's first pair.
He loves them dearly and wants to wear them at all times.
The need arose for us to leave the house today.
I said, "Time to go, Bud, find your socks & shoes."
"I don-neeeeeeed shoes," he said.
"Oooooh, yeah you do." I replied.
"No no no no no, Spy-man shoes." he tried to convince.
"Nope, real shoes," I insisted.
<insert monkey shrieks>"MY SHOES!"
I did eventually flex the muscle of parental authority and win the shoe fight. We'll see how tomorrow goes.