*warning this post is basically one long whine
Yesterday was a real blast.
My oldest had a new friend over.
Yeah! New bf's grandparents live around the corner and she wants to come over…can she Mom?
Approximately 7 minutes after new bf came riding her pink bike over and giggly talking 4th graders rush upstairs (never drawing breath) I hear running, slamming, yelling, bellows, crying.
Not exactly a rare occurrence in our house, but with a new child in the home I am compelled to actually go upstairs and investigate, rather than my usual yelling upstairs for them to shut up.
I discovered daughter number 2, (the supposed bf of daughter number 1…you see where this is going don't you) is chasing the new bf interloper around with a dull, but real, swiss army knife.
We, after a lot of crying and talking, got it pretty much worked out. But now I am left with some kid, who's parents I don't even know, with a riveting story to tell about how she was chased around with a knife by her new bf's sister.
Can you say: psycho family?
So now I have to walk this child home and explain to her grandparents, whom I have never met, about the "great knife incident".
Did I mention they actually got it on film on her camera?
Talk about the smoking gun. There is no lying out of that one.
Though knowing my child as I do, she was in her- I am going to be dramatic and wierd in an attempt to be funny so maybe the new kid will like me- kinda mood. I don't think she would have actually tried to hurt her.
So, in I go into a very neat and tidy kitchen to tell 60-year-old strangers why is was exactly their granddaughter was chased around by my daughter with a camping knife soon after arriving to our house.
I tweaked the truth a tad, using the word "pretend" instead of "swiss army" …the truth can be so awkward sometimes.
They were very understanding and nice and thanked me for explaining, and did not seem to be leery of me; though they did suggest that maybe next time the girls play at THEIR house…I agreed.
Again what a blast.
Fast-forward about 1 hour after the awkward conversation:
The big girl's room is getting out of control.
Nothing can be found.
We can't walk through.
You CAN smell, which is a shame, cuz it smells like stale.
This is me shoving rubbish out from underneath their bed:
This is me shoving rubbish into their closet:
This is the amount of clothes I picked up from their floor (note: the blue basket is where the socks are supposed to be kept on the hallway table; a communal pile of children-sized socks: I wash em, dry em, but won't sort 'em). It was tipped over, socks scattered who knows where, and hence my daughters have not worn any in 3 days. Do I sound like I care?
This is just a small glimpse of the scattered stuffed animals I picked up off the floor that represents the massive collection of stuffed animals my daughters own. I know what you are thinking…"just throw some of the old ratty ones out…they won't know". But that is where you would be wrong my friend….there is a list:
clan in which it belongs
(ok that was a joke).
I will say that they get an unbelievable amount of joy and imagination out of these toys…not usually seen in children their age, which gives me much joy.
But all this to say…"the great knife incident", piles of rubbish and missing socks, meticulously detailed lists of toys…none of this was ever discussed in all those frickin' parenting books.
So, here's to parenting off the cuff, making it up as you go, hoping most of this lunacy is normal, and as always, starting on your knees.