Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Consequences Are VERY Not Fun
"I don't like Mommy because she is the boss, "list maker," and the one who makes me do everything I don't wanna do. I wanna do what I wanna do!" Big Brother stomps up the staircase, abusing 107 year old wooden planks. He's on his soapbox today, proclaiming the "injustice" of having to wear rain boots to the bus stop. I do not snuff-out his heartfelt display of freedom of speech, because I'm playing federal government. This is a very educational game I made up where I ignore his crayoned signs and petitions, (including the signatures of all illiterate people in the household). When he really starts to bug me, and we are going to be late for school, I check to see if his room is clean, and tax him when it is not. The removal of a coin from his purple, plastic ATM machine causes much wailing and gnashing of teeth, but I don't care. "Consequences, happen, whether you like it or not." I say. He hates when I act extra calm while he's in trouble. "CONSEQUENCES! AWWAH CONSEQUENCES!!" He's really angry. "That's what happens when you talk fresh to Mommy, don't listen or do what you're supposed to do on a school morning. Now, hurry, or you'll miss the bus too." I say. He whines his way back downstairs and puts on his boots. "I put my boots on NOW, so I shouldn't have consequences." He mumbles, taking the chance that I may be listening to the conversation he's having with the floor.
I squeeze an old pink hat on Baby Bigfoot's head, and rush the children out the door. The princess wants to bring her Humpty Dumpty finger puppet to the bus stop. "No, leave that here, or you might lose it," I say. She turns around and stuffs it in her pocket. I decide to pretend like I didn't see her, because I don't have time to argue. If she loses it, that will be her consequence.
It turns out to be mine. The bus is coming when we reach the curb, so the kids start running down the sidewalk. The princess suddenly stops and screams, jumping up and down and reaching in the direction of the road. My arms are filled with Baby Bigfoot, his Sippy cup and my house keys. "What is wrong?" I shout-ask, at my wit's end. Humpty Dumpty is lying in the center of the street, and cars are rolling over him. I hold the two older children on the grass with my glare, and stop traffic to get the %$!#@ finger puppet. People are not amused.
I save Humpty's life, and we get back in the house, minus Big Brother, who is off to school. When things quiet down I sneak upstairs to take a shower. Baby Bigfoot is napping in his pack-in-play, and the princess is in the den. What a relief it is to have a few moments to get clean! (Motherhood feels like a never-ending camping trip.)
I come downstairs, refreshed, until I see the bathroom door open. Hell Hound is drinking the pee in the princess's plastic potty while my daughter is writhing on the floor, half naked, (because pulling up pants after using the toilet is "so boring," and, more importantly, a gruesome, tragic discovery was made in the den). Hell Hound ate Humpty Dumpty. "You took a shower Mommy, and the dog beed bad, and now Humpty Dumpty bees DEAD! OHHH! I goin' to jump off a cliff." She howls. I'm laughing somewhere on the inside, but on the outside I want to cry. I'm standing there in a bath towel, and now I have to kill the dog.
I open the back door and drag Hell Hound out into the mud, almost giving the dead neighbors in the cemetery next door a reason to wake up and look in the process. "Now you spend the day out here!" I tell Hell Hound, whose staring at me with droopy eyes. I re-grasp my towel and march my proud, consequence-giving self back through the door. I find the princess in the den, speaking to Humpty Dumpty's severed leg. "Con-QUENSES happen, when you're sorry or not!" she scolds. This morning there was a moral behind my parental actions, but now I can't find it.
Dear Internet Traveler,
Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.