Confessions of a Terrible Stay-at-Home Mom, Vol. 4
in Giggles on September 5, 2016
Confession: My children are spoiled, rotten, and, I’m sad to report, entitled brats. I have had my suspicions for quite some time, but this is a fact that I can longer avoid, nor can I deny. They are, without a doubt, entitled, which can only mean one thing:
I have failed as a mother.
I came to this realization in the wee hours of the morning today, as I stood over a laundry basket over-flowing with towels, and feeling a pair of eyes boring into the back of me. To whom did these eyes belong? My youngest child. He was staring at me from the other side of the living room, where he had comfortably seated himself on the couch. From his vantage point, he could watch both me and the TV, all the while effectively practicing the stink eye he was so diligently trying to perfect.
Why was he so peeved? After all, I was the one folding towels…
Yesterday, my sweet husband turned off the household internet. All three of our little spawns had staged a revolt and, from the looks of their rooms and the upstairs region of my house, decided to either (A) audition for the next episode of Hoarders or (B) test nuclear warheads. At this point, I don’t really care which option is correct. All I want is for the mess to get cleaned up. Jeff thought they needed proper motivation, hence the internet took a slight sabbatical.
The natives were not pleased.
As I continued to labor over my towels, having already started yet ANOTHER load of clothes, a voice dripping with contempt and disdain wafted its way through living room toward my general direction, “Uh, just when do you think Dad is going to turn the internet back on? This is totally ridiculous. He goes all crazy over a speck of dust in the house.”
Says my child from his soft and cushy seat on the couch, wrapped snuggly in a blanket, with his breakfast dishes on the coffee table in front of him.
Here’s the thing. Kids are messy. I get that. I have three of them. And there was a time when every-single-surface-in-my-house was STICKY. That is the nature of the beast. BUT, during those toddler stages, I also taught my children to pick up their toys and clean up after themselves. How and when did they forget those early lessons? When did the teenage monster destroy those early and most important rules of household functions? And is there a vaccination for laziness?
Most of the time I have really great kids. There are respectful to their elders. They get good grades in school, and they behave relatively well in public. BUT, as of late, their world has gotten small…very, very small, until it really only consists of themselves. Allow me to explain.
As parents and adults, when we see something that needs to be done, most of us do not wait to be told to do whatever it is—we simply do it. But my children cannot fathom this concept. If there are dishes in the sink that they did not use, they can’t see them. Those dishes magically become invisible. You can’t wash an invisible dish; it is almost as though they have fallen through the looking glass.
Towels from the dryer that they did not use—can’t be folded by anyone other than the original user, otherwise this violates the laws of nature. Shoes, clothing, and other mysterious artifacts that are found lying around the house can’t be picked by anyone other than the original owner—otherwise, this, too, violates the laws of nature. IF, anyone should SUGGEST that another person, other than the original owner, user, or offender be responsible for picking up, cleaning up, or putting away someone else’s things, prepare immediately for Armageddon.
Now, if by chance, the children are made to clean up their OWN mess, be prepared for extreme eye-rolling, fits of rage, and temper tantrums worthy of Oscar acceptance speeches. Apparently, when I donned the titled of MOM, maid and servant to all was in the fine print.
This behavior of my children is my fault. I take full responsibility. I am slightly neurotic about the way my house is cleaned, and therefore have not let the children “help” as much as they should. My mother has made this abundantly clear in her last several visits. Thank you, Mother. And as a direct result, my children now think cleaning is beneath them.
News flash: We do not have a maid service. And I am not it. It is not my job to pick up after, and cater to your every whim. However, it IS my job to raise productive and contributing members of society. Members who know how to clean up after themselves.
Let this serve as your first and final warning…I am going on strike. The How To Clean a Bathroom list was only the beginning. The winds of change are blowing in from a new direction.
If you are reading this post, and find yourself and your family in the same boat, take heart! We can and will turn this thing around! We WILL be the parents. Our kids may outnumber us, but we will prevail. I will not cave to a battalion of entitled little ingrates…no matter how cute they are.
Here’s hoping you win a few battles today!
Dallas
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