Mean Mama

Well I guess the honeymoon is over.

I'm exhausted. The boys are allowing me some more sleep but they are going through the house and things like a wrecking crew. I've been more than patient I believe. I have explained and I KNOW that they understand about picking up.

And the thing is if you say . . .

Go upstairs and take off your shoes and socks, put on pajamas and your robe and then sit at the table for a treat - they will be waiting in the appropriate manner expectantly.

But if you say . . . pick up these toys - there is a blank stare or simply you are ignored altogether as if you have not spoken at all. Not a "huh?" or anything. I told them that if they didn't get them put away I would take them away. They laugh. Heck, there are PLENTY more toys available. Well, there WERE.

As I said, I'm tired. Over the past three days I've gathered up toys that have caused fights as well as those left for me to trip over or pick up because they have moved on to something else. Many are outside on the back porch, some in a Rubbermaid tote.

I have Sarah and Andy coming tomorrow night (my oldest daughter and son-in-law) and they will be staying in the basement which is also a large playroom. It has a futon, fireplace, large screen TV along with DVD, stereo, etc. It has its own bathroom. It is a virtual fantastic kids area and has the majority of toys (soon to be MAJOR as in 95%+).

I have warned that the time for clean-up is coming. I have warned that the toys will be removed. Now true, Mary and Julia know that when the "mean mama" voice is enacted you'd better beware.

So Paul has to defecate. Sam has to urinate. They race off with a toy upstairs. I tell them I am not happy and they giggle. I haul them downstairs to assist so I can SHOW them how nicely things can go in the colored bins and they double up on the wonder-horse with glee and then act like they haven't a clue.

Fine. I banned them from downstairs. I told them we were family and if they could not help as a unit get things ready then they lose the ability to be able to play down there for two days. I was cleaning their mess.

I feel better. And from their mood they could not care any less. They stated at the top of the stairs and Paul would get Samuel to race down to check our progress and announce himself then race back up to report.

And that is fine by me. I'm not wanting them sad or hurt. I'm simply wanting not to be the maid. I know, I know it goes with motherhood but I'm not talking about a vacuum/mop/dust/laundry/meal preparation strike. If we have so many toys they cannot be managed then maybe we have simply too many.

End of lecture!