I've gotten dozens of angry comments from you non-parents who think raising kids is so simple. I can understand why it would seem that way from the outside. I just wish you could spend this week in my shoes. I've taken off work because my kids are on Spring break (somebody has to watch their asses!). The worst part is that we're stuck at home together. I was going to take them somewhere, until I remembered last year.
I had taken them all to the King's Dominion amusement park for some fun and rides. Little Jailen, who was two at the time, started whining after only three hours. Then she got all dehydrated and blacked out. It pretty much ruined the day for everyone. I reminded her about that this week, and told her that she's the reason we weren't going anywhere this summer.
On Monday we all went to the grocery store. I made the mistake of taking them through the checkout with me. As I should have guessed, they totally flipped out over the candy rack. I told them "no" and they started throwing a group tantrum. So I tossed a candy bar onto the belt and said, "Fine!". But once I got them strapped into the car I opened the candy wrapper and ate the whole damn thing right in front of them. Tough love never tasted so good!
On Tuesday I screamed at them to either play inside or out. Then I put baby O.J. in the tub with a mouthful of Bubble tape and headed upstairs to the computer. After a while little Jailen started banging on my bedroom door, and I yelled at her for being inside. She kept banging, so I swung the door open, and she told me that Brandon had fallen off his bike. That idiot had managed to dislocate his shoulder, and had to drag himself home all the way from the cul-de-sac. I told them not to play so far down the street!
On Wednesday my pregnant 15 year old daughter decided to run away. We've been fighting like cats and dogs lately, so I'm not sure that I even want her to come back. Then I think that she's probably hiding out in some unwed mother's shelter getting all kinds of bad advice from god knows who. Eventually she'll realize that she needs me to help guide her through the realities of pregnancy and motherhood.
So it's Thursday now, and I'm pretty much at my wit's end. I just had to figure something out. The thing is, I never hit my kids. A good parent knows that it's better to outsmart them. They wouldn't ever eat their vegetables until I told them that broccoli helps you fart. So this morning I told them that the wooden spoon (which I use for spaghetti sauce) is stained red because I'd beaten my first child to death for misbehaving. It seems to be working so far!