Hi. It’s me. I was going to write about how skinny people get wrinkles even though they’re skinny and my fat easily fills the lines on my face in but then I thought that wasn’t so nice. Plus, who am I kidding, I have both fat and wrinkles. So instead I will write about one of the biggest “oh my I’m raising sons” mistakes I’ve ever made. This mistake has come back to haunt me and I’ve dubbed it “I’m too tired to follow through on your bullshit” mistake. You’re welcome for my technical and psychological expertise.
So this is how it goes.
MOM: “Clean your room.”
SON: “OK Mom, I will….after I finish this game.”
MOM: “OK” (I naively and foolishly comment)
Two days later I realize that he never cleaned his room. Do I follow through? It depends on my energy level. To be honest I often repeat myself until I’m so damn tired and realize that it’s easier to pick up his dirty clothes myself. MISTAKE ALERT! WHOOT WHOOT WHOOT!
My sons have trained me, outlasted and outsmarted me. They have won the resilience battle. It’s really not fair because I have three kids to follow through with and they only have one mother to push back on. I am the ONLY woman in this household except my dog Mocha! What was I thinking? And let me say something about my Mocha. She’s a sweetheart. She keeps her brother Cap clean and licks the gunk out of his eyes while her eyes are matted like crap because he is not going to clean her because he is MALE. OK I digress.
So then I erupt into this huge monster hurricane tornado kind of mom and am met with complete embarrassment and attitude. “Seriously, like my other friend’s moms don’t behave this way.” To which I will reply “I AM FRIENDS WITH THOSE MOMS AND YES THEY DO!” What usually then follows is an exaggerated walk to the refrigerator by (pick any of my son’s names) and a slow drink of water until he sloooowwwwly goes upstairs to take four hours to clean a room that should have taken five minutes.
Dear future daughter-in-laws I am so very sorry.
One day I wrote a note to my son Ryan. The note said “Ryan, is that your plate in the basement I see on the TV cabinet?” Later when I passed that note I saw a reply. The reply said “Maybe.” OUT came the hurricane tornado mom only to find that he cleaned up his damn plate and now I AM the crazy one….again.
My point is? I try. I really try to follow through. To be honest I do a great job until they turn 16. That’s a magical age. That’s when the hormones and the body odor and the attitudes all peek at once and it’s just easier to hide from them. That’s when you feel like a boxer in a boxing ring and wonder where you went wrong and why you’re feeling down for the count. As they approach twenty you start to understand that you don’t care where you went wrong and start to dream about beach homes and long vacations.
But for now? I’m Hurricane Tornado Crazy Mom. However when my husband intervenes and puffs out his chest and sternly tells them to listen? I’m SUPER SULTRY SEXY WIFE!