My house is unbearably messy. I’m tired beyond belief. But, I feel this responsibility to let you all know I’m alive.
So here you go. Truth. Dry, boring, unfiltered truth.
I’m not a very funny human being. Couple that with the fact that I have the memory of a goldfish and you’ll understand why I rarely try to relate the mundane details of my day. If I had an ounce of whit, I’d be all over telling you about the ins and outs of my everyday life. Alas. I feel like writing them poorly is worse than not writing them at all. Tonight however, I’m throwing caution to the wind and convincing myself that posting SOMETHING, regardless of how ridiculous may be, is better than posting NOTHING at all. I’m 97.8% certain I’m wrong.
First things first.
Can a mother pee? Like seriously. Is it too much to ask to enter the bathroom and take care of business uninterrupted? Even once? Apparently so. A mother can never, ever pee in peace.
But the real deal today, was bedtime.
I’ve got a bed wetter. I get it. I love him. I don’t make him feel shame over it. It’s no biggie. We just do diapers at bedtime and deal with pee on the sheets when we have to. For some kids, it’s part of growing up. Fine. BUT my bed wetter goes bat wild for water every night at bedtime. So tonight, I pulled a Covey on him. “Son, are you beginning with the end in mind? What’s your end in mind? If you drink this much water before bed, you are in fact going to pee in your bed. Do you want to pee in your bed? Do you LIKE sleeping in your pee?” Him, “Sure! I’lllllll. . .haaaaaave. . . apple juice.”
Tonight was a Jack-in-the-box kind of night. Boys bouncing out of bed every which way, so I did what had to be done. I threatened the loss of Candy Friday*. . . in a very LOUD voice (with a big, ferocious scowl on my face-think Jack Nicolson with a pony tail + mascara).
The rule to maintain claim on Friday’s treat? Stay quietly in bed, no matter what. Simple.
“What if there is a FIIIIIIRE? Do you want us to BUUUUUURN?!”
Me: “Yes. If there is a fire, I would like you to stay in bed and burn. Any other questions?”
So, it’s working. They’re in bed. Halle-freaking-lujah. Now, I’m lying with the bed wetter, singing lullabies.
“Edelweiss, Edel-”
From down the hall:
“Maaaaam! Maaaaaam!”
Me: “Yes.”
Loooong pause. “Ummmmmmm. . . I love you.”
Yeah, nice try Brother. Me: “I love you, too. No more talking.”
And again:
“Edelweiss, Edel-”
“Maaaaaam! Maaaaaam! Come quick!”
I march myself down the hall, ready to pull out the big guns, like, you know, “You can’t drive until you’re 27!”
“Mom, if I catch on fire, don’t worry, I’ll stop, drop and roll.”
Nice. Thank you son.
Back to the bed wetter. “Edelweiss, Edel-” I hear the door to the bedroom creek. I look up to find. . .
This. In my jeans and high heels, standing completely straight faced in the doorway.
In the sweetest voice ever, “Mommy, may I go to the bathroom.”
So I did what any responsible parent would do. I encouraged the behavior by getting out my cell phone and taking pictures.
The end.
*Candy Friday is a Norton family tradition. Since we don’t allow our kids to have sugary treats during the week, on Friday’s we take them to the grocery store and let them pick one treat to eat during our family movie time. It’s the best bribery tool, EVER.