Pithy Quote

I had a pithy quote I thought I'd blog. You would have been impressed with my whit. But it's upstairs. I'm downstairs. And if I go upstairs, one of "THE FOUR" will ask me for a drink of water, or an extra "tuck in". They might even ask me, "What's for breakfast tomorrow?"

No thanks.

I'll stay down here, where they're less likely to venture. 'Cause here's a dirty little secret: I hate bedtime routines: the tucking in, the glass of water, the prayers, the whole shebang. It makes me crazy. Because I am so DONE with kids by bedtime that I don't usually have the tolerance for the "I'm scared.", "I'm thirsty.", "I need a band-aid." crapola my kids dish out at this hour. I am sympathy challenged at my best. So, I have absolutely zero feelings of charity and empathy towards kids who think they need water after I think I'm entitled to "clock-out" for the evening.

And there goes my Mother of the Year Badge.

You think, "No, surely not. The Stephanie I know is compassionate, and empathetic."

Um. Not so much. Here's Proof:

Emma comes in crying, "Mom, Ethan is picking on me."

I say, "Stop being an easy target."

Or how about this one:

"Mommy, I hurt my head."

I respond, "Are you bleeding?"

"No."

"You're fine. Stop crying."

Yep. Yours truly has uttered those words.

But this is the perennial favorite.

I say, "How many kids are there?"

"Four", some sheepish kid mumbles.

"How many mommys do you see?"

"One."

"Get in line, kid, I'm doing the best I can."

Yep, that mothering award isn't casting long shadows around here this evening.










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