My friend recently referred to her years as a mother having 'worn her down'. She was specifically referring to the fact her youngest son was playing with a toy gun, which was something she would never had let her older son do. I couldn't have agreed with her more.
Though I actually laughed out loud at her musing, there was a part of me that didn't know whether to keep laughing, or start crying.
I'm worn down too. Remember all those mediocre parenting scenarios I described a month or so ago, well they just seem to keep getting worse.
Drew still takes a nap every day. It keeps me sane. Albeit he does it because I bribe him with candy. Drew sits on his bed and eats a piece of candy, while I close his blinds and gather his blankets. (Drew's bed is the one bed in the house that doesn't get made except when Joshua makes it for him on Saturdays!)
Joshua and Luke share a bed. They have for almost three years now, and neither wants to move. Joshua had a little bed wetting accident the other night, but nobody told me. The next night as I tucked the boys into bed Luke was complaining about how stinky and slightly damp Joshua's side of the bed was. I told him to make sure he stayed on his side of the bed and face the other way from the smell. I then said a silent prayer Joshua wouldn't notice the dampness. It was bedtime-not bed-sheet changing time.
The next morning I had 349 things to do, and Joshua didn't want to get dressed immediately. I let him run around in his stale-urine smelling pajamas until almost lunch time.
Ellie bought a brand new bottle of purple nail polish at our family store on Sunday morning. Tuesday afternoon while laying on Ellie's bed talking to Megan who was laying on her own bed, I saw a big splotch of purple nail polish on the carpet. I just sighed and told Megan to cover it up with a piece of garbage that was laying nearby.
A couple of weeks ago, Mike came home from work and noticed that Drew was still wearing the previous night's dinner on his face. It was a far cry from the day when I had just two children and a neighbor asked me if Megan had ever had a dirty face before.
A couple of nights ago we went to my grandma's house to pick grapes. As we were picking the last few grapes before leaving to go home to fix dinner, my grandma brought out a bag of Fritos and package of Ritz crackers. I didn't say a word when ten minutes later, my children had consumed both packages. Thirty minutes later we arrived home. After giving my children apple slices, I told them dinner had been served.
And of course there is the never-ending scenario of Drew rarely wearing anything more than a diaper even though the temperatures outside aren't even reaching 70 degrees anymore.
Somethings just aren't worth the energy or the battle.
I should probably be quiet now.