Potentially Terminal It's Not Fair-itis



Annie cooking up some doughnuts for the letter D. (She's wearing the yellow shirts with her back to the camera - of course).



Annie ready to eat doughnuts for the letter D. (Still wearing the yellow shirt and still not facing the camera).

 

Annie playing the letter game that she connected to the TV herself. I'd had this stashed away until she got "older." When she started matching the letters and sounding out "had" and "bad," I gave up and decided that she is now "older."

 

Mom and Dad got a new storage shed. They rolled the old one out of the way using brute strength. Really? When is Dad going to act his age and stop pretending to be the Incredible Hulk?

Sunset set tonight. (While I was watching this, someone was trying to steal the van). No kidding.



Stripe decided to begin his cocoon today. Annie explains this by saying that he's sleeping and going to make a sleeping bag out of string from his bottom. Life according to a three year old...

 Today, I have a major case of "It's Not Fair-itis." I'm not sure where I caught this bug but I sure hope it's just a 24 hour bug. After a late night battle with Grant last night about a Scout event this morning, I had a restless night. I keep wondering what I could do differently? I've tried the tough love approach. I've tried giving him lots of grace. I've tried consequences. I've tried logic. I feel like I'm only left with trying the baseball bat theory. After he went and completed the Scout project this morning against his will, he went on to my parent's house. My understanding was that he was going to put in some good old-fashioned hard word and help dad with the new shed. Nope. It sounds like he got to sit in the recliner all day and operate the remote. Not what I had understood would go on. Ugh. When I tried to round him up to bring him home, he mumbled something along the lines of, "I'd rather LIVE in that shed than go home with you." What would Cliff and Claire Huxtable do? My brain was sloshing with schemes. I could banish him to live in that shed for a few days with the mowers, Christmas decorations, and cans of paint but my parents would save him and bring him back inside and coddle him some more. Do I sound ungrateful? No. I absolutely know that there's no stinking way I could have kept things afloat in any manner without my parents. However, this is getting to a critical fail sort of point. All three kids know that if Grandma or Papa are around, they don't need to follow my directions. "Mama, can I have chocolate?" I say, "No. You didn't eat your dinner." I turn around and she has chocolate and Papa has a sheepish grin on his face. I say, "You wasted the last two hours and didn't ask for help with your homework so you're out of luck." Grandma says, "Aw. She's just tired and needed a break. I'll help her." Dang it all! No! I'm the mom even if I do have to still rely on them for help in certain areas, I AM THE MOM!!!!! I've picked this battle before and it never goes well. I don't have the energy to battle right now. It's not fair! I hate feeling like I'm obligated to "give" them some of my power simply because they help out.

What else is not fair? I've saved for the last six months to get the kids' Christmas gifts. I literally just ordered the last child's "What I Want" gift today. (Everyone gets something they want, something to read, something to wear, and something they need). I took care of the "something they want" to try and blur the fact that everything else will be crappy. Then, Grant says, "Hmmm.... Do I want an iPhone 5 or and iPad for Christmas? Or both? I have to tell Daddy. He just texted me" What the H E double hockey sticks? I'm breaking my neck trying to budget to give them crap for Christmas while still figuring out how to pay for braces, car repairs, field trips, and the other damnation that goes on around here but he gets to sweep in and be the hero? There weren't enough vulgarities known to man to cover my feelings at that point. Once again, it's not fair.

We were at Mom's having dinner when that text-a-thon went down. I had to escape. I faked a need to run to WalMart. I did NOT head to WalMart. I went to my thinking place. My thinking place is a nice wooden swing on the edge of a river. (I try to ignore the fact that I was purposed to at that park and had a first kiss at that park on that swing). I sat on the swing and just watched the sun setting and cried. Did it help? Nope. It probably made it worse because It's Not Fair-itis feeds on negativity and the thoughts I was screaming at God were definitely NOT positive. My conversation with God went something like, "What have I done wrong? I've been lied to repeatedly, left alone, tried my hardest to do the right thing to my own demise, continued giving when I'm empty, keep my integrity intact, and done my best not to whine." Now, when I come to my senses, I will pull myself up by the boot straps and move on, but tonight, I need to be admitted to ICU for this case of It's Not Fair-itis because it's a pretty deadly strain.

Believe it or not, it got even better. As I sat watching the river and a family fishing off the bridge, I was oblivious to the fact that some punk had chosen my van to vandalize or steal. When I finally decided that I had rolled around in my own crap long enough, I started back up toward the parking lot (full of cars) only to see a young kid standing on the driver side of the van with my door open. Do I yell and hope he doesn't have a gun? Do I call for help and watch him rifle through the van? I took my chances and yelled, "Hey," at him from quite a distance. He ran off up the trail. Call the cops and report it? Why? I'm the idiot that didn't lock my door. There wasn't anything really worth taking unless he was after a nice toddler seat, my Bible, or a baggie of trail mix. Oh, and my pretty nice GPS was in the glove box but I guess he hadn't got that far yet. So, I simply got in the van and drove off. Unbelievably, I'm not too shaken about the whole thing. Maybe it's just because I've already lost my mind. I don't know. However, I can guarantee you that the van is locked up tight now as are the house doors. Blinds are shut tight and even the curtains in the kitchen are pulled closed. Why? It's just not fair!

So, I'm going to get every one's clothes laid out for tomorrow morning and assume that Grant has It's Not Fair-itis, too, because he doesn't think going to 8:00 Sunday school is fair because he and Dasha are in the same class. Buck up, little dude. For tomorrow, you'll have to suck it up and deal with it. I'm going to Sunday school at 8:00 to face the paranoid alien watcher and Jello girl while staying glued against the wall in hopes that no one will talk to me. (The other members of that class are probably making up stories about me being some snob that refuses to engage or speak).

Maybe this bug will have passed by then, too. If not, I'm going to need some pretty intense antibiotics because this is the sort of disease that will strip you of your joy and happiness like a piranha stripping the flesh from your body. I don't want to end up that way.

Night, all.