Note: There will be cursing.
(Currently, there is a war over train tracks. One set in use. We have another set, which is being ignored. The person who could go get them is the person who doesn’t ever want them unless they are already in use. And there is still a lot of today left. A lot.)
I have been thinking lately about the bullshit all around. In my house. In the world.
I don’t know if it’s because it’s the end of a long, hot summer, but my patience is just really thin. So when I refill the water bottles three-quarters of the way and the kids start whining about one having more than the other? Or throw shoes at me and still expect ice pops? Or leave half-finished art projects in every available space in the house? (NB: The finished ones from camp go to die in my car. Truly. They don’t make it inside.)
I just spend a lot of every day wanting to scream, “This is such bullshit! Stop it, stop it, stop it!”
It’s not just me. Taxman has similar frustrations. But he sees about 2/7 as much as I do. And he doesn’t curse. (True story. He made me stop, years ago. It was a smart move for parenting, but when I am panicky it comes out again.)
Why can’t we, as a family, operate in a smooth way?
Why won’t they just put on their shoes when asked?
Why do we fight about sunscreen application, tooth brushing, and hand washing? Every day.
If their cups and the Brita pitcher are on the table, why do they have to come into the bathroom, where I am sitting on the toilet, to report “I’m thirsty!”? JUST TAKE CARE OF IT. These are the same children, of course, who pitch a fit if not allowed to pour their own milk over their breakfast cereal–and then drown it and refuse to drink what’s left.
I have ideas, of course, to solve the problems. They largely involve doing what I ask the first time I ask; treating each other, their things, and me with respect and care; acting independently at least once a day; and putting their damn clothes in the hamper. (Actually, this also applies to other people in the house too. Being in the living room is like being The Time Traveler’s Wife and Mother.)
I think world politics could take a lesson from this. Be respectful, be safe, clean up your mess. Like this:
“No, Iran, you can’t run with nuclear weapons. Why don’t you put them in the drawer until you can be safe?”
“No, Japan, you can’t kill off the whale population. They are beautiful and have been around for a lot longer than you. Try eating more fruit and vegetables instead.”
“No, America, you cannot make more environmental messes until you clean up what you’ve already created. Get back to me in 50 years and we’ll reassess.”
“IOC, how is it fair that cities who have hosted the Olympics before get to jump the line and do it again when others are waiting?”
I really think that parents who are home-based (and therefore spend all day, every day dealing with this) could come up with some good solutions.
Not knocking working parents at all (lucky stiffs!), but you probably have a much higher tolerance for the crazies.
The problem with politicians is that they are politicians. Even the ones that were “housewives” (ack) before getting elected or appointed or whatever.
We need unsalaried, frazzled, fed-up parents to come in, do a clean sweep, and get out in time to change over the laundry.
Which reminds me…