Can't You Just...

Can't you just. Three little words, so innocent and non-threatening when they're all by themselves, but stack them one on top of another, up and up and up and soon, they're towering over me like an impending avalanche. Looming. Suffocating with their massive weight.

My last, "Can't you just..." piece was placed on top of my already created mountain, and came tumbling down. It had it's casualties. My cheerful morning was ruined and my husband reeled from the severe bite wound of, "I JUST SAID, I WOULD DO IT!" It seemed like a petty thing, asking me to run to the bank, but on top of all the rest, it brought the mountain down.

Can't you just. 

My schedule is packed. I mean, every minute, every second of every day. Those three little words cause more chaos than anyone in my family understands. "Can't you just get me one more glass of water?" Every step to retrieve this water, standing waiting for the cup, pushing through the stalling tactics of going to bed, is directly proportional to the amount of time I will have to stay up to finish studying. Forget the fact that I had just asked you if you needed anything before bed ten minutes ago.

"Can't you just help me get dressed?" Means I have less time to make sure we have everything we need to before we leave in the morning, and has on more than one occasion, resulted in my going hungry throughout the day, because I didn't have time to make me a lunch, or a forgotten piece of crucial homework.

"Can't you just tell me what there is to eat?" No. I haven't had the menus printed. Get off your butt and go look.

"Can't YOU just call the insurance company?" I'm on the phone in my car, or during the 10 minutes between classes taking care of something that seems so incredibly simple.

"Can't you just go to school conferences?" Now I must check my work schedule, call the school to find a different night and time, and take an hour and a half out of my nightly list of things to do.

Can't you just...get that paperwork together, pay that bill, send that email, take the kids to the walk-in clinic, pick up that prescription, feed the dogs, look up someone's phone number, get the kids out of the bath, help me with my homework, pick up snacks for school, drive the kids to or from school, make that appointment, approve that ad, or record that show?

When asked what I'm doing today, when I say "not much" doesn't mean I'm sitting in the recliner eating bon-bons. It just means that I don't have to work after classes. I still have housework, homework, laundry, dishes and other menial tasks that fill my day.

I used to think that it was just easier to resign myself to this position since it probably would take me half the time to do it. But now, when I have to claw my way out from beneath the rubble without any recognition or appreciation, I realize I have put myself in a very dangerous position. A position of being constantly frustrated, to a point of gnashing teeth and high blood pressure. Of being too weary to be able to do the "fun" things, like going for a walk or playing outside.

So now it's my turn. I'm throwing some stones your way, and if we all carried just a little bit, it would be a lesser burden.

 So....

Can't you just pick up after yourself? And I mean actually put the dishes IN the dishwasher instead of gambling that the last spoon isn't going to topple the leaning tower of Pisa in the sink? Can't you just go to bed without argument, without poking each other and fighting over who has more blankets? Can't you just do what I ask the first (or I'll even take second) time I ask instead of wondering why I'm hurting your feelings because I've raised my voice on the 8th try? Can't you just respect me as your mother/wife instead of your personal wait staff? Can't you just give me some input about what groceries to buy instead of complaining that, "There's nothing good." when I plan a week of nutritious meals? Can't you just take out the garbage when it's overflowing instead of attempting to put ONE MORE wrapper in and walking away when it falls to the floor? Can't you just do a couple of loads of laundry when, "I don't have any underwear." or at least put away the stacks of folded clothes that I have even sorted into shirts, pants, PJs and socks? Can't you just realize that when you leave them sitting out until I'm not even sure what's clean and what isn't anymore, that you have now created another hour of laundry? Can't you just take it upon yourself to do some of these things without me asking you first?

I drink LOTS of caffeine. Not because I particularly enjoy the taste of coffee, but more because I am up at 5:00 and in bed by 11:00 at the earliest. I NEED caffeine. I don't relish being "mean" or "hurting feelings," I am trying to do my best not to totally lose it and go ballistic on all of you. I really DO want to read just one more book at bedtime, but my precious minutes and seconds have been nearly eaten away throughout the day.

I know this is true for a lot of women out there, and I'm sure they would all want just a little empathy, a little compassion, and some more recognition. We know you've had a "hard" day, but I'm pretty sure you'd crumple under the pressure if you had to walk a few steps in my shoes.

I realize that at this rate, I'm going to end up with a couple of pansies, mama's boys, whose future wives will hate me if something doesn't change. And honey, when you scoff and rib me when some TV doctor tells the audience the benefits to your health if you're intimate 3 times a week? Help me make time in my schedule! Think about it. "I don't have time" does not mean, "I'm not interested." So let's make it happen, alright?! That should be some motivation for you.

So, because I know that everyone would benefit all around, then next time that, "Can't you just..." is casually flung out there. Expect a resounding, "No! No I can't." It's for your own good.

Out of Control

It's days like these, or maybe even months, where at the end of my day I bring out my BIG wine glass, lean my elbows on the table with the palms of my hands painfully pushing into my eye sockets and wonder if I ever was IN control in the first place. And if I was, where the hell did I put it?!

My children have mutated when I wasn't looking. I think it's the summer sun...an overdose of vitamin D, but no website I've looked into supports my hypothesis. But theoretically, it COULD be true. Do you have any idea of incredibly impossible it is to explain to a 4-year-old that although it's as bright out as it was at lunchtime, it's actually an hour past his bedtime? Believe me, I've often wondered how much damage I have done when I've thrown up my hands, given up putting them back in bed for the fourth time and allowed them to watch TV until they fall asleep, leaving them sleep deprived by a good 3 hours short of what "experts" recommend my children should have for a good night's sleep. For Pete's sake, I could be promoting psycho-killer tendencies!

Can it be that my intense, every-minute-accounted-for timetable only allows me a diet of coffee, diet Coke, Red Vine licorice and wheat thins? It's a good possibility.

I cannot and will not take my children to public places or to visit friends unless I absolutely have to. I swear they have an uncanny sense to know when the extent of mommy's discipline is severely dimensioned by being in the presence of witnesses other people. But on the flip-side, maybe it's this lack of exposing them to these situations that's hampering their ability to cope? Yeah, right. It's damaged my social life beyond repair...and theirs.

Example: Our neighbors sit outside, have drinks and sometimes food and visit with one another. They have always extended an open invitation for me to join them. I can't. I sometimes stand in my driveway and gaze longingly at the tight-knit little group, so wanting to go over for conversation and laughs. But if I do, it means the kids will follow. I want to relax. I can't carry on a decent conversation, because I'm constantly doing the terminator scan to make sure they aren't doing something they shouldn't be. They're loud, they interrupt, they tease the dogs, they touch things they're not supposed to, they fight with each other and every five minutes, need me to walk them back down to our house for some reason.

How do other parents do it? I see parents out taking a walk with their kids in tow, and not one of them is pushing the other off the sidewalk or trying to run each other over with their bicycles. Other children do chores without complaint. I ask mine to pick up their Popsicle wrapper off of the living room floor and he collapses like a puppet whose strings have been cut and complains that his legs "hurt because he's growing," and how dare I ask him to scoop up the wrapper and carry it WAY OVER THERE to the garbage can? When I do not back down, he will literally, drag himself across the floor using only his arms...like a scene from some black and white army movie, to throw it away.

They ask me every. two. minutes. when lunch is ready, but only take two bites before announcing they're full and evaporate from the table before putting away the dishes. I drag them back to the table, hoping not to pull their arm out of the socket and ignoring their sobbing as I ask them to put their dishes in the dishwasher. Good lord, it's 2 ft. from the table!!

I've tried everything. I've thought that maybe I was being too lenient, that I need to pick my battles. But more often than not, that lead to being ignored completely. So I stepped it up. I threatened. I took away video games, TV time, dessert, and (avoid eye contact) taking away a birthday. What? I was desperate! I'll admit it, there have been days that I've lost complete control of myself, told them they were rotten kids, that they didn't love me or they would try harder to be good. Come on, we've all said things we've regretted...right? (Please say yes.) I've had Shawn threaten them with a belt (not that we'd use it, but a good slap on the table can serve as motivation sometimes.) My "motivation" growing up was the flyswatter.

I've gone the other route too, trying to bribe them into good behavior by a reward system. They forget about it after two days. OR if they do get their reward, they complain it wasn't what they had wanted, they didn't get enough and we're right back where we started.

I've had more than my fair share of whining. Oh my gosh, that HAS to be the worst! That high-pitched babbling accompanied by tears, I can't understand a word that's being said, and honestly don't care, because it usually has to do with some horrible injustice one has inflicted on the other...like one brother saying the other farted when he didn't. The world is going to end because HE is SOOO mean! The bullying, the lying, the screaming, crying, hitting, tantrums, spitting, kicking, scratching....IT HAS TO END!

You'd think after 7 years, I'd know what to do, but I don't. I sometimes look back on my day and shake my head...they're children. Okay, they're not perfect, but I love them, they are my whole world, I'd die for them in a heartbeat. They really are brilliant, they make me laugh, push me outside of my comfort zone in order to be a better person for them. Am I a horrible parent? No lie...sometimes I am, but they shape me as much as I shape them. I have to realize that they don't understand how much I sacrifice, how hard it is to balance school with their one on one time, and how hard our every day life can be. I only hope that when they're older, they won't remember the bad days. Maybe I expect too much...but it's only because I can see what beautiful people they are. Frustration? Absolutely. But they have their moments that make my heart sing and burst with pride.

I admire my mother-in-law more than you can imagine, because she raised six boys. SIX BOYS?! What the hell? I need to take notes.

I just have to hope that everything will balance out in the end...the good days and the bad days. Do I have my hands full? Probably more than most, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.