I am absolutely sure every one of us, including the people I am about to put on blast, has a pet peeve regarding the bodies they have to share space with. Frankly, I couldn’t care less what they might gripe about because, hey, I’m writing this. They probably won’t ever read it anyway. 🙂
I do love being a stay-at-home mom; I sincerely do. It gives me so much time with my kids: the freedom to just scrape together the most awesome diorama ever seen by Palmer Elementary the night before it happens to be due; the luxury of finding all that is lost in our tiny little slice of heaven, which often includes, but is never limited to, hubby’s belt (ummm… No, dear, I don’t know where it is. I didn’t wear it.), boy-child’s Pooh lovey that he just doesn’t think he can hit REM sleep without, the “only jeans that fit!” belonging to my 12-year-old daughter (she’s got plenty and knows she has to wash them herself if she wants them clean); and the list goes on.
I have a saying that has been used by mothers for generations in my house: “When mama ain’t happy, ain’t no one happy!” Wait… Wrong one. “It’s never truly lost until mom can’t find it”… That’s the one. For the most part I am a “hide-and-seek my lost garbage” dynamo and can almost always find that which is lost. Mostly I am able to do this because I use my head and, oh, that’s right, I actually LOOK for the items no one seems to be able to find. I’ll admit, I’ve been stymied a few times, and it still ticks me off. I maintain that our house ate those things and they’re gone forever. These items are so random I can’t even begin to think of where they’ve gone after I’ve torn my house apart repeatedly. But I digress…
I dearly love these people, make no mistake. One of them is my life partner and best friend. I gave life to the other two, and I have that whole “I made these little people” love going on. So for better or worse, they are mine and they are dear.
There are things, though, that I find less than endearing in our daily to and fro. Silly things that shouldn’t matter but almost always make me want to shoot Nerf darts at them until the frustration eases:
1. The aforementioned “All is lost!!! My (insert item here) is gone forever!! How shall I ever move forward without my precious?!?” Okay. I get that I’m the one who has her head and hands in the realm of our home life, but c’mon now. Asking where the remote is without even having glanced around the normal remote control resting places is just lazy. And to my boy-child I have oft said, “No, son, I don’t know where your cars are. Did you look in your bed/toy box/room area? Might start there” (he’s only 3 going on 4 so he does get some leniency). I love when my preteen daughter asks if I know where her toothbrush is. Her TOOTHBRUSH. These things aren’t known to migrate often. Most disturbing is when I ask how long it’s been missing and she can’t recall. Ummm gross! I don’t mind helping locate lost items as I’m a haphazard housekeeper at best, but for the love of Pete’s dead body, they don’t even TRY!!
2. I normally buy toilet paper in large, shrink wrapped flats that should last until the second coming. They make it a week at max and I’m unsure why. Do they EAT the damn stuff?!? And why can’t I be informed of a dwindling supply BEFORE I’m sitting on the toilet, yelling for TP that we no longer have and wiping with tiny scraps or paper towel?? I know they are aware that there isn’t a magical TP delivery crew, so how come I’m always the last to know, and just when I need it? This isn’t rocket surgery here.
3. The inability to see and correctly handle trash. This one just leaves me flabbergasted. Yes, I wait to empty some trash until I can’t possibly stuff one more empty toilet paper roll into the small can in the bathroom, but I DO empty it. There are countless weird and obnoxious pieces of refuse decorating our bathroom areas that make me want to screech like a banshee. Examples: The carcasses of toilet paper picked clean (I could seriously do some Pinterest art with all the empty toilet paper rolls), Q-Tips carelessly tossed in the general direction of the trash can area but rarely actually IN the can, razor caps from disposable razors that litter the sink area (I will concede that while he doesn’t throw the caps away, he always rinses the sink of his freshly mowed stubble, so he gets some points there)… It goes on. I’ll admit some guilt here too. I am seriously not great at throwing away empty shampoo or conditioner bottles, and I do leave my razors in the shower. But c’mon, if you see that the trash is full then empty it; enough with the trash Jenga! Why am I the only one willing to do this chore?!
4. The absolute inability to let me sleep in when I have the chance. I have a 3-year-old son who doesn’t believe that the chickens should be the first ones awake. No, really. He’s been torturing me with his too-early mornings for a while now, and I’m the one who gets up with him by default. Hubby works and shouldn’t be expected to haul his ass out to the living room at 0300 to search fruitlessly for Mickey Mouse Clubhouse when he has to be up so early anyway. Girl-child can be a big help with her brother, but while she’s excellent at hanging out with him and giving him cereal in the morning, she quickly loses her temper, and my Saturday slumber is often shattered by one or both kids screeching about dumb stuff. I’m not a sleep-in person so much anymore, but just one Saturday every blue moon I’d love to have them all get up and do their own thing — take care of one another — until I wake on my own. I’d love to sleep knowing they’re being mindful of my snoozing by tiptoeing around, doing quiet and peaceful activities until I rise of my own volition. Ahhhh. That would be wonderful, but it ain’t ever gonna happen. Even if I am the last to get out of bed, I’ve already been listening to the cacophonous free-for-all they’ve created for a good hour or so. Even on mornings when the boy-child isn’t home and everyone else has school or work, I don’t make it past 7:30 without someone waking me with mundane stuff. Ahhhh… Someday it’ll happen. Until then I will be a morning person, no matter how grudgingly.
5. The question that makes me bonkers: “What’s for dinner?” It’s not even past 0900; what do you mean “what’s for dinner?!” I’m gonna have to get back to you on that. Stop asking before 1500 please!!! They act like they’ve gone hungry and this is a life altering question. Every. Damn. Day.
6. Leaving their items hither and thither but being upset when they’ve been relocated by our resident toddler, or worse, broken. I know if I leave my laptop on the floor, he sees it as an invitation to test the integrity of Dell engineering. So normally, I make sure it’s not a waiting temptation. Not always, but I’m fully aware of the fact that if I don’t want my junk ruined, broken, lost, messed with, or tossed off the balcony then I need to take steps to prevent it. This concept isn’t one the hubs or the girl-child are quite catching on to. Silly.
7. They can’t get up in the morning. No, really. You should hear this joint in the morning. With all the different alarms going off it sounds like an air-raid in a nightclub. The BLEAT-BLEAT-BLEAT coupled with ear worm tunes like Call Me Maybe is enough to make me want to screech at the two who need alarms.
8. Going through clean clothes like a diva. Okay, I happen to do the laundry, and I do notice when an item has not been worn, yet is in the dirty clothes again. Or the hubby and his work socks and tees… For real? He’s got a whole pile of them and over half are now unacceptable for his uniform. Okay, cool. I get that. THEN THROW THE DAMN THINGS AWAY!!! It’s almost enough to make me start drinking!
I do adore these people I occupy my time and space with. They are awesome and life is damn funny and too wonderful with them. I’m truly blessed. I’m also sick and damn tired of this nonsense.
I gotta go do laundry now. 🙂