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Dribbles and Grits to Crumpets and Bollocks: It's the Little Things of Parenting.. that make you go insane

It's the Little Things of Parenting.. that make you go insane




This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is LITTLE




They say the Joy of Parenting is found in the little things.


Awwww. But the Insanity of Parenting is also found in the little things. This is the part people don't usually get. This is the part that I think goes without being said when I start talking about any story that entails my children with other people who CLAIM to have children. I don't care if I see you grab your little minion from the cluster of PTA in front of the school every day, if you fail to get this without it being said, you are not a parent. You might be a sperm donor or womb carrier but real parents know what I'm talking about here. It's the little things that bring on the insanity, and everyone with normal human children experience it.

It's not the easiest thing to describe. It changes for every Psychosocial Stage.



Even a list of the little things just doesn't give it justice. These THINGS (not the children) are like Power Rangers. They are just little things dressed in bright colors, but they have the power to combine forces into a big monster transformer. Imagine BOTH lists happening in the span of an hour. Yes you can drown in the little things.

Long story example because we are talking LITTLE THINGS compiling into a BIG THING:

We are late a lot for school. Tardiness is my virtue. One I seemingly hold dear in my heart. And when you sign your kids in late at school, the stupid sheet asks in the LITTLEST box on the thing, "Reason." Which translates into "excuse" because according to the school, there is no good reason to be late. Car breaking down being attacked by chupacabra wolves and receiving open heart surgery just isn't any real excuse for being late.

I don't know why they ask. They don't really want to know the answer. They don't care what the answer is. Most parents put down "Late."

Me, no I put down things like, "The centripetal force from the kids was so strong that it increased earth's gravitational pull slowing down time for us." One time I put down, "Karma."

What does that mean? It's the little things that make me late every day. It's never one thing. It's always a cataclysm of meaningless events entwined with bad luck, proper parenting, and some procrastination. Time doesn't exist in my world. My kids have their own clock.

My morning tea party punishment (for murdering time like the Mad Hatter) consists of the first thing. Waking up. This is a new thing we've added to the ritual. I really did go a few years without any sleep whatsoever so waking up was never an option for me in the past. It's so weird actually having to wake up. I'm not really used to it, so I don't always remember to bring my phone to bed with me (alarms). Big deal. Most people at the school had the luxury of little things like sleep. They are sleep experts in my mind. I'm a newb. Baby steps. I'll be there some day. But until then, I actually sleep in sometimes. By accident. And it's a new thing because before when I was always late, the fact that I hadn't slept in days was usually the reason I forgot to pay attention to the time. Only people who have actually been there could possibly understand that. Sleep deprivation isn't for the holier-than-thou perfect people out there.

This post explains why I didn't sleep and how I got to a point where I could sleep again. 

After I wake up, I have to actually wake up. The morning drink. I've been doing this red energy drink that doesn't really give me energy but like coffee, I just tell myself it does so it has a psychosomatic effect on me. Nobody is to bother me until I'm well into my second drink. They do anyway, just so we can start the day with a good blow to my inner peaceness. Usually before I can get to a sip, a kid is asking for something. I need a bottle (she's too old for a bottle she doesn't need it she just has issues), put my blanky on me. Remember the pancake syrup you had mom?

At this point, any mess I leave sit there, even if it's pancake syrup all over the floor at risk of being stepped in and trudged through the house, and we all know hardened syrup is harder to clean than soft recent syrup. I leave it. I'm determined to get my beverage. I get whatever I need to get to stop the "MOM" noises long enough to have my beverage.

Then I lose track of time because I check Facebook and Email. The reading of things wakes up my brain. I have absolutely no idea what day it is, what year it is, that I have children, that they might have school, I don't know any of this until after I read a few things people say. I think this is what black and white men on 1950's television was attempting with reading the morning paper.

So then I usually have an "Oh shit" moment looking at the time like when people slept in, and we are not late yet, but we are going to be. I don't always have this moment where I'm thinking Oh Shit. Many mornings, I'm thinking, "We have over an hour to get ready for school we will so be early today they might get breakfast at school instead of home." Regardless, I pick a point in time and decide, "It's time to get the minions."

Sometimes I wake up kids. The oldest never wants to wake up early for school unless it's Saturday. Sometimes they are already awake. Most of the time, I'm waking up a kid with the other 2 awake. While only 2 kids are school aged, all 3 kids attend the dropping off the two kids to school ritual. For a long time, all 3 kids attended the dropping off the one kid to school ritual. It was so convenient, taking 3 kids to drop off 1 every day.

I grab their clothes (usually before waking them up or while waking them up), and I throw it at them, "Get ready." I don't know why I do this step. It's my attempt at teaching my children to be independent people. They can dress themselves. But when I'm around, only the 4 year old wants to do it herself which takes 10 times longer than if I did it, and then she gets stuck. She's been this way since she was 2. The older two "NEED" my help. So I then dress each kid. Then I find socks. Then I find shoes. Then I brush hair. EACH KID gets this.

I do all this while they fight, ask for things, demand things, fight, more fighting, can't find something unimportant, wants to play a video game, spills milk, dumps a trash can...

So I'm finally at the point where 17 gray hairs popped out of my head and 27 brown ones fell out. We are now already late because the children made sure of it. I'm proud of myself because they are wearing their own clothes and while their socks don't match, at least they fit their feet. This is when one of them will sit on ketchup somehow, or paint, or pee or poop themselves, or go wash their hands and end up drenched... Or the one on the autism spectrum doesn't like her pants... Something to put me back at square one with at least one kid. I can't leave without dressing a kid a second time.

Then we get to the car. The kids scatter into the parking area in 3 different directions looking at mud puddles, rocks, toys, lizards whatever. I'm screaming, "Get in the car" as I'm putting backpacks and things in the car. This goes on for 20 minutes, "Get in the car or I'm going to spank your butt," and it usually entails herding them like I'm a cowboy on a horse. Morning PT. I don't need the gym. I have kids and I got them in the car. Then the fun part. I get to buckle them in. Whoever invented car seats is a sadistic bastard. "Here use this to save your kid's life, break a finger trying to buckle them in."

I get all 3 kids in the car, buckled. I sit my butt down. Turn on the radio. Breathe. Shit I forgot that paper the teacher wanted signed. Hold on kids. I go up, FIND the paper, get the paper, come back, and they are unbuckled. How? How can they unbuckle something so easy that I struggled so much to buckle in the first place?

I buckle them back in. I sign the paper and read it for a second. I pop the car in reverse, "Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom."  Are you fucking kidding me? Can you hold it? "No, I have to go now."

So I unbuckle that kid, walk them up into the house, wait, wipe their butt, get them back in the car. Rebuckle the kid.

I usually get as far as the mailbox before I realize I forgot my wallet and purse. Sometimes I get much further than that before making this realization. Either way, I turn around to retrieve item. And why?

Shit, they need breakfast. They missed school breakfast now I have to come up with Breakfast. McDonalds it is.

And we get to school at a roaring 9:30 AM.

It's the LITTLE THINGS that make the JOY of parenting. Really. The LITTLE THINGS will make you and they will break you. But the best part of the little things, you can't explain it to people in a sentence, especially people who don't give a shit and will judge you nevertheless.


If for whatever reason you inhaled too many bleach fumes cleaning your toilet and you like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner

You can also find me under these rocks...
Follow on Bloglovin Find me on Facebook Find me on Twitter Find me on Pinterest find me on youtube Find me on Feedburner 


Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

Labels: , ,

Dribbles and Grits to Crumpets and Bollocks: It's the Little Things of Parenting.. that make you go insane

Sunday, March 30, 2014

It's the Little Things of Parenting.. that make you go insane




This week's Sunday Confession's prompt is LITTLE




They say the Joy of Parenting is found in the little things.

  • The little hands caressing your giant honker claws
  • The little hugs
  • The "Mom! I love you." 
  • Tucking them in bed
  • Kissing a cheek while the little one sleeps

Awwww. But the Insanity of Parenting is also found in the little things. This is the part people don't usually get. This is the part that I think goes without being said when I start talking about any story that entails my children with other people who CLAIM to have children. I don't care if I see you grab your little minion from the cluster of PTA in front of the school every day, if you fail to get this without it being said, you are not a parent. You might be a sperm donor or womb carrier but real parents know what I'm talking about here. It's the little things that bring on the insanity, and everyone with normal human children experience it.

It's not the easiest thing to describe. It changes for every Psychosocial Stage.

  • The heart drawn on the wall in deodorant and Preparation H
  • Complete disregard for the words, "Stop Fighting." 
  • The inability to walk from the car directly into the house
  • The puddle of pee on the floor the kid splashed into like a mud puddle
  • Clean clothes piled with dirty clothes covered in Shredded Cheddar
  • A banana launched at your face (she was aiming for her sister)
  • The mysterious pile of pizza crust in the corner behind the TV
  • ...


Even a list of the little things just doesn't give it justice. These THINGS (not the children) are like Power Rangers. They are just little things dressed in bright colors, but they have the power to combine forces into a big monster transformer. Imagine BOTH lists happening in the span of an hour. Yes you can drown in the little things.

Long story example because we are talking LITTLE THINGS compiling into a BIG THING:

We are late a lot for school. Tardiness is my virtue. One I seemingly hold dear in my heart. And when you sign your kids in late at school, the stupid sheet asks in the LITTLEST box on the thing, "Reason." Which translates into "excuse" because according to the school, there is no good reason to be late. Car breaking down being attacked by chupacabra wolves and receiving open heart surgery just isn't any real excuse for being late.

I don't know why they ask. They don't really want to know the answer. They don't care what the answer is. Most parents put down "Late."

Me, no I put down things like, "The centripetal force from the kids was so strong that it increased earth's gravitational pull slowing down time for us." One time I put down, "Karma."

What does that mean? It's the little things that make me late every day. It's never one thing. It's always a cataclysm of meaningless events entwined with bad luck, proper parenting, and some procrastination. Time doesn't exist in my world. My kids have their own clock.

My morning tea party punishment (for murdering time like the Mad Hatter) consists of the first thing. Waking up. This is a new thing we've added to the ritual. I really did go a few years without any sleep whatsoever so waking up was never an option for me in the past. It's so weird actually having to wake up. I'm not really used to it, so I don't always remember to bring my phone to bed with me (alarms). Big deal. Most people at the school had the luxury of little things like sleep. They are sleep experts in my mind. I'm a newb. Baby steps. I'll be there some day. But until then, I actually sleep in sometimes. By accident. And it's a new thing because before when I was always late, the fact that I hadn't slept in days was usually the reason I forgot to pay attention to the time. Only people who have actually been there could possibly understand that. Sleep deprivation isn't for the holier-than-thou perfect people out there.

This post explains why I didn't sleep and how I got to a point where I could sleep again. 

After I wake up, I have to actually wake up. The morning drink. I've been doing this red energy drink that doesn't really give me energy but like coffee, I just tell myself it does so it has a psychosomatic effect on me. Nobody is to bother me until I'm well into my second drink. They do anyway, just so we can start the day with a good blow to my inner peaceness. Usually before I can get to a sip, a kid is asking for something. I need a bottle (she's too old for a bottle she doesn't need it she just has issues), put my blanky on me. Remember the pancake syrup you had mom?

At this point, any mess I leave sit there, even if it's pancake syrup all over the floor at risk of being stepped in and trudged through the house, and we all know hardened syrup is harder to clean than soft recent syrup. I leave it. I'm determined to get my beverage. I get whatever I need to get to stop the "MOM" noises long enough to have my beverage.

Then I lose track of time because I check Facebook and Email. The reading of things wakes up my brain. I have absolutely no idea what day it is, what year it is, that I have children, that they might have school, I don't know any of this until after I read a few things people say. I think this is what black and white men on 1950's television was attempting with reading the morning paper.

So then I usually have an "Oh shit" moment looking at the time like when people slept in, and we are not late yet, but we are going to be. I don't always have this moment where I'm thinking Oh Shit. Many mornings, I'm thinking, "We have over an hour to get ready for school we will so be early today they might get breakfast at school instead of home." Regardless, I pick a point in time and decide, "It's time to get the minions."

Sometimes I wake up kids. The oldest never wants to wake up early for school unless it's Saturday. Sometimes they are already awake. Most of the time, I'm waking up a kid with the other 2 awake. While only 2 kids are school aged, all 3 kids attend the dropping off the two kids to school ritual. For a long time, all 3 kids attended the dropping off the one kid to school ritual. It was so convenient, taking 3 kids to drop off 1 every day.

I grab their clothes (usually before waking them up or while waking them up), and I throw it at them, "Get ready." I don't know why I do this step. It's my attempt at teaching my children to be independent people. They can dress themselves. But when I'm around, only the 4 year old wants to do it herself which takes 10 times longer than if I did it, and then she gets stuck. She's been this way since she was 2. The older two "NEED" my help. So I then dress each kid. Then I find socks. Then I find shoes. Then I brush hair. EACH KID gets this.

I do all this while they fight, ask for things, demand things, fight, more fighting, can't find something unimportant, wants to play a video game, spills milk, dumps a trash can...

So I'm finally at the point where 17 gray hairs popped out of my head and 27 brown ones fell out. We are now already late because the children made sure of it. I'm proud of myself because they are wearing their own clothes and while their socks don't match, at least they fit their feet. This is when one of them will sit on ketchup somehow, or paint, or pee or poop themselves, or go wash their hands and end up drenched... Or the one on the autism spectrum doesn't like her pants... Something to put me back at square one with at least one kid. I can't leave without dressing a kid a second time.

Then we get to the car. The kids scatter into the parking area in 3 different directions looking at mud puddles, rocks, toys, lizards whatever. I'm screaming, "Get in the car" as I'm putting backpacks and things in the car. This goes on for 20 minutes, "Get in the car or I'm going to spank your butt," and it usually entails herding them like I'm a cowboy on a horse. Morning PT. I don't need the gym. I have kids and I got them in the car. Then the fun part. I get to buckle them in. Whoever invented car seats is a sadistic bastard. "Here use this to save your kid's life, break a finger trying to buckle them in."

I get all 3 kids in the car, buckled. I sit my butt down. Turn on the radio. Breathe. Shit I forgot that paper the teacher wanted signed. Hold on kids. I go up, FIND the paper, get the paper, come back, and they are unbuckled. How? How can they unbuckle something so easy that I struggled so much to buckle in the first place?

I buckle them back in. I sign the paper and read it for a second. I pop the car in reverse, "Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom."  Are you fucking kidding me? Can you hold it? "No, I have to go now."

So I unbuckle that kid, walk them up into the house, wait, wipe their butt, get them back in the car. Rebuckle the kid.

I usually get as far as the mailbox before I realize I forgot my wallet and purse. Sometimes I get much further than that before making this realization. Either way, I turn around to retrieve item. And why?

Shit, they need breakfast. They missed school breakfast now I have to come up with Breakfast. McDonalds it is.

And we get to school at a roaring 9:30 AM.

It's the LITTLE THINGS that make the JOY of parenting. Really. The LITTLE THINGS will make you and they will break you. But the best part of the little things, you can't explain it to people in a sentence, especially people who don't give a shit and will judge you nevertheless.


If for whatever reason you inhaled too many bleach fumes cleaning your toilet and you like my blog, you know, you can subscribe to it.

Enter your email address:


Delivered by FeedBurner

You can also find me under these rocks...
Follow on Bloglovin Find me on Facebook Find me on Twitter Find me on Pinterest find me on youtube Find me on Feedburner 


Blogs who I think sent me traffic to my blog that you should check out if you haven't...  I do read all of these blogs regularly.

The Bloggess

Insane in the Mom Brain

More than Cheese and Beer

Finding Ninee

Ooops I Said Vagina Again

Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic

Labels: , ,

1 Comments:

At March 31, 2014 at 11:46 AM , Blogger Jenn Solivais said...

Haha! Oh my goodness. Next time I start to complain how long I have to wait on my hubby to get out the door I'll just keep my mouth shut and reread this blog and send some patience your way ;-)

Great post!

 

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