My 5 Year Old Killed My Minivan…

3 Comments

My twins have started Kindergarten and that’s a whole new ball of fun. The kids are wired, tired, and fired (up).

We had a three day weekend with Labor Day, then the next school day was Tyler’s annual hemophilia appointment, and we had to pick him up from school half way through the day. While we vowed to never, ever, ever, ever, not never, never, ever bring Andy to another one of those 3+ hour long appointments again, we had to this time because he threw the most epic of all hissy fits when finding out Tyler was going to get out of school early.

So we broke our never, ever, ever, ever, not never, never, ever rule and regretted it.  It was hard not to get all gritchy with him as he answered all the questions meant for Tyler , while jumping around and screeching he likes cheese, because it’s boring for everyone. Especially for Andy who does not have hemophilia and was ripped away from the awesome iPads in the waiting room of Akron Children’s.  Finally it was over, and we went home to a decent night.

Then Wednesday came.

Three days off from school, then leaving after 2 hours on Tuesday must have made Wednesday the LONGEST, most UPSETTING day of their ENTIRE lives. As SOON as I picked them up from school, they were crabby, bickering, and yelling, and that was just on the way to the car.

Because we’re in a parking lot, I want both kids to get in the same side. Unfortunately, it’s Tyler’s side of the car, and my little Napoleon HATES when someone treads on his space. He had a meltdown and wouldn’t let Andy cross to the other side without some kicks and yelling.

Gritting my teeth, I say: “Aww, I MISSED you guys!”

(I think they are starting to recognize sarcasm.)

So we go home, and Andy starts yelling: “I want that white stuff to eat.”

Me: “Um, what stuff?”

Andy (starting to get that melt downy look and tone): “That WHITE stuff with the apples!!”

Me (still not connecting the dots because he was just talking about Ninja Turtles): “What are you talking about?”

Andy (kicking and screaming): “Ohhh, you never know what I’m talking about! That white apples and candy!”

Me: “Ok, stop screaming at me! Are you talking about the apple surprise dessert?”

Andy: “YES. I WANT it NOW.”

Me (tongue bleeding, jaw clenched): “Sweetie, Mommy doesn’t just have whipped cream, Snickers bars, and apples lying around the house for that dessert.”  (But I should, it’s so good)

Andy: “AHHHHHHHH!”

Ok, how long have we been together now? 10 minutes and I’m ready for a break already! I get everything out of the car, except Andy who is not coming.  Fine, they have played in my car before, he will come in eventually.

He finally comes in 10 minutes later crying and snuffling. Obviously, they were tired and hungry, so I left it at that.

This morning, I cannot find my keys anywhere. I always put them in my purse, on the key rack, or just lately (copying the husband) keep them in the car. You probably know where this is going…

I look everywhere for those keys. We need to leave in 3.5 minutes to get to school in time. I opened the doors to my minivan and notice the automatic door isn’t working (someone probably pushed the “off” button again”. Then the hatch wouldn’t open (dangit, someone locked the doors again), and I noticed my security light wasn’t on (grr, probably blew a fuse).  Andy suddenly yells: “Oh there’s your keys!”

They were in the ignition.

I never leave them in the ignition.

Ever.

I fiddled and noticed the key was turned as far as it could go without turning on the car. I pushed it that extra bit and nothing. Dead, dead, dead.

“ANDY! WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Andy slinks into his carseat. “I didn’t put the key in there and turn it!”

Me: “I never said that’s what happened! Did you do this? Are you allowed to touch my keys?”

Andy: “No, it was probably Tyler.”

Tyler (looking completely confused): “What? Wait a minnit! I did nothing! I’m a good boy. I don’t touch my Mommy’s keys!”

Sigh. Luckily my oldest hadn’t gone to work yet and I was able to throw the twins into the car and take them to school.

On the way, Andy says: “So who did that with your keys might  have been ’cause they was mad and wanted to drive away.”

Me: “So it was you?”

Andy: “Um…well no, I’m just sayin’…but I will tell that key person not to do that ever again.”

Tyler: “Better tell him now, Mommy’s face is gonna ‘splode.”

Lesson learned: Never leave the keys in the car, and keep 5 eyes on Andy at all times.

Advertisements

I’m Leaving on a Train Car…

Leave a comment

I want to start off by saying I love my kids.

I do, I do, I do.

But they drive me CRAZY!!!!

I know I’m not alone in this. I’m pretty positive every single parent, at one time or another, has envisioned running away from home holding a plaid knapsack on a stick containing a few PB&J’s while whistling a merry tune as you find a nice train car to jump into and go far, far away.

Or do what I do and hide in a corner, suck on a thumb and rock myself.

I was a teacher. I took child psychology classes, learning development classes, I knew all the stages of anal, oral, and whatever else Freud liked to talk about, so you would think when my child is freaking out about something I would remember it was normal.

It’s so hard to remember that when they are screaming at the top of their high pitched lungs and telling you they hate you because their apple isn’t as red as their brothers.

(That was last night)

My oldest is 18 and is easy at this point, but he still has no idea how to clean up after himself. He can create mods on his computer games, and defeat any enemy he wants, but the concept of bringing dirty dishes to the sink escapes him.

My 5 year olds, well, they are another story. Every minute is full of wonder, such as: “I wonder who is going to have a meltdown next?”

The Terrible Twos and Threes are nothing compared to the Terrible Fives.  I find myself correcting more during the day than cuddling, and constantly trying to see into the future to know what may or may not cause a tantrum.

Eggshells. Lots and lots of eggshells.

One of the twins said they hated me last night because I wouldn’t give them a sucker with their dinner. I have never given them a sucker with dinner, but they decided it was to be, and when I nicely refused, it caused a serious row and I was flabbergasted. I’m often flabbergasted.

One of the twins has a broken arm and decided he wanted to wear long sleeved pajamas to bed. I said that wasn’t a good idea because a) the cast doesn’t fit into the arm easily, and b) it was 85 DEGREES.

Well, that made him more determined to prove that I was wrong and he proceeded to fit that cast into the sleeve one millimeter at a time. He was getting red faced and mad and kicking and screaming, and it took him 10 minutes to put on the shirt while I watched, defeated.

But he showed me.

They also like to lie, now, which is awesome. I will say: “No, we are not going to the McDonald’s play area, it’s 9PM!” and they will say: “You’re mean. You said I’m a stupid boy and you hate me!”

WHAT?? NO I DIDN’T! “Yes, you did, you said you don’t love me any more and that I’m just a stupid head.”

<facepalm>

I’m exhausted from all the work my brain has to do to deal with them sometimes. Yelling doesn’t do anything but make everyone more frenzied, but sometimes being calm makes them think their behavior is ok. Forcing them to say they’re sorry when they aren’t, or don’t even understand why they should be sorry, is difficult, as does knowing which battle to fight or give up on.

Every generation goes through this, and I think it’s because we aren’t given enough insight into what children go through in their little brains. They are testing the waters, seeing what they can do, not realizing they are slowly sending their parents into mental zombie land.

There should be a pamphlet that is sent to us on their birthdays so we know what we’re in for the next year. Things like: “Five year olds often have no clue what the heck they really want, and reverse psychology works amazingly well at this age. They will also think they need everything they see on every commercial, especially the “As Seen on TV” ones.” (Thanks, Snackeez)

I also think there should be hotlines for each year of age and when the kids start going nutso, we can call the 1-800-5yrolds for advice.

Operator: “Hello, this is the 5 year old hotline, how can I help you?”

Me: “Um, hi there, my 5 year old won’t come downstairs because I refuse to carry his blankie for him.”

Operator: “Do you have a plaid knapsack on a stick?”

Me: “Why, yes I do.”

Operator: “Fill it up with sandwiches and find yourself a train car.”

 

Feel the Power of the Elf on the Shelf!

Leave a comment

I did something kinda bad last night.

I made my kids cry, and deep inside, where my cockles are, it gave me a HUGE happy.

They were being ROTTEN, and I WANTED them to cry.

(Ok, in their defense, I didn’t try to redirect them, or pay attention to them, or feed them, but STILL, acting like the end of Rise of the Planet of the Apes, is no bueno.)

So, the Elf on the Shelf, named Shredder, has a lot of power in my house. At least for a minute or two. Telling the kids that Shredder is going to tell on them helps keep them in check for about 56.8 seconds.

We ONLY move the Elf at night after the kids go to bed, on days they are being punkasses bad listeners. THAT way, they know they need to try harder.

Last night, I was on my last nerve, and that was even my last reserve nerve, of which I had about 5,000 stored up in my nerve reserve holder. I was about to lose my mind. I was trying to wrap presents, and they had to wrestle RIGHT THERE.

I was trying to eat dinner and they were wrestling RIGHT THERE.

I was trying to Pee, for crying out loud, and they were wrestling RIGHT THERE!!!

So, when they weren’t looking, I grabbed the Elf off the shelf and hid it in my underwear drawer, ’cause that’s how I roll.

I walked into the family room and said loudly: “Oh, NO. THAT’s NOT GOOD!”

The kids came running, and I pointed to the empty space on the shelf.

I said: “Oh, Wow, guys, Shredder was so irritated that he left WHILE YOU WERE STILL AWAKE to tell SANTA you’ve been bad!”

Instant wailing.

Like at an Italian funeral. ( I can say that, as those are my people).

“I DON’T WANT SANTA TO BE MAD!” one wails.

“I’M NOT GONNA GET ANY PRESENTS!” the other wails.

They were so loud, I shut the pocket doors to the family room, and sat in the living room with my equally irritated husband and we giggled.

Hard.

The Elf has power. Not like Grayskull power, but that little creepy thing is a wielder of something helpful here and there.

Things My Kids Misinterpret # 2 – 8

Leave a comment

So I asked Twin A for giggles where babies come from.

A: Well, they come from beds. And sometimes dorks.

(He’s not wrong).

——————

Teen Who was playing “Gangnam Style” the other day, and now Twin A will randomly burst into: “OTA Gunner Stah!” and do the Ota Gunner Stah dance.

——————

Twin B: Mommy, my cup is dirty, can you put it inna worshang masheem?

——————

I have a popcorn masheem, er, machine in my kitchen. The kids cannot say “popcorn”, it’s always: “pawcones”, which is what Mr. Who calls it now, too.

——————-Pawcone Masheem

Back in the day, the kids pronounce the “ed” at the words, saying “it” which was neverendingly hysterical, such as: “I poopit”, “That stinkit”,  which is another thing that Mr. Who says now.

——————-

Currently, they add “t” to words that end in “n”, and we cannot figure out why, for example: “I’m gonna wint!” or “Look at that mant”.

——————-

It’s funnier, too when they correct each other, incorrectly.

B: It’s Capin Amerita!

A: It’s not Amerita, it’s Mare-ca.

B: That’s what I said!

Things My Kids Hate #1: TV Breaks

Leave a comment

My kids have a really hard time understanding why they have to watch commercials sometimes.  I try to ‘splain the difference between watching something on cable versus the PS3 where we have Netflix and Amazon.  I tell them one is “cable box” and the other the “movie box” and sometimes I walk up to both (while giving a fantastic Vanna White impression) to point and explain again which has commercials, but they don’t get it.

We watched Ratatouille the other night on the PS3 – no commercials. This morning I found it on cable tv. Everything was right with the world until a commercial came on.

Twin B, the smaller one with an internal rage meter set to kill, asks disgustedly (for the 117th time):Doh, what’s dat fing?

Me: It’s a commercial, B.

Twin B: Well, what’s a mershel and why I gotta watch it?

Me: COMmercial, and I told you a hundred times. Sometimes the TV show needs a break so they show these little shows to get you excited about toys and Snackeez that you need to have immediately.

Twin A breaks in: Yeah, I need that fing! (points to a LEGO WCW ring)

Twin B: I don’t wanna watch the mershel. Make it stop. Radatoy don’t need a bweak.

Me: I can’t stop it. I have no control over what the TV does. And A, you’ll have to ask Santa for that.

Twin B: WAST night there weren’t no mershels when we watched da Radatoy.

Twin A: SANTA IS COMING??? NOW????

Me: Right, because we watched it on the (jumps up to Vanna point) movie box. And NO, Santa is not coming for a long time.

Twin B: Well, you can go get it on da movie box then.

Twin A: mumbles about Santa not coming

Me: Um, no, it’s almost time for school, and…(the screaming begins)

Twin B: I AM SO ANGRY!!! I HATE MERSHELS, THEY MAKE ME  SO MAD!!! (screams, stomps, throws Blankie in the air like he just don’t care)

He then picks up his cereal bowl and yells: I’M GONNA FWOW MY FWOOTY PETALS AT THE TV! I’M GONNA DO IT WIGHT NOW! (looks to make sure he has my attention). I’M GONNA DOOOOOOO IIIIIIT!!!

I jump up: Oh, you better not throw those Fwooty, er, FRUITY Pebbles anywhere, Mister!!

Twin A, who had his glorious shining “WTF hour of power” last night, came to the rescue: Well, Twin B, it’s ok, wook! The mershels over, see? We can watch Rata-too-ee again!

Twin B looks up, Ratatouille is back on, the sun came out, the angels sang, and his little 4 year old, 28 pound body returned to its pre-Hulk status. All was right with the world. For now.

Thank you, Twin A.

I hid in a closet waiting for the next mershel meltdown.

 

GOOD BLACK NEWS

Your Source For The Good Things Black People Do, Give and Receive All Over The World

Humanity Death Watch

The Future Is Funny

CarrieLouWho

I Have No Filter!

Dear Crazy Kids,

(A note from Mom)

Greg Gotti

The writings of an American somebody

Baby Sideburns

shits and giggles and everything in between

Momologues

prattles on the pathos of parenting

Jenny Kanevsky

Copywriting

Pick Any Two

Because moms can do anything, but not everything.

Love Marriage Worms

and other absurdities

Storytime with John

Pull up and listen...I've got a funny one for ya...

From diapers and tutus to meetings and boardrooms

Trying to keep my sanity one blog post at a time

Perpetually Irritated

Barely Containing My Inner Indignance

Sparkly Shoes and Sweat Drops

Motherhood, Mental Health, Moving Your Body

Overthinking my teaching

The mathematics I encounter in classrooms

established 1975

stories to read while pooping

www.calliefeyen.com/

"I don't know so well what I think until I see what I say; then I have to say it again." -Flannery O'Connor

Journeys of the Fabulist

Adventures With Family. (Making it up as I go along.)

%d bloggers like this: