Out of the mouth of babes

Today was an interesting day around the homestead.  After enjoying a wonderful and relaxing afternoon with adult friends at the movie, I picked Meredith up from school and returned home to relieve the babysitter that had the other two tikes.  The house was chaos.  Not chaos caused by the babysitter, but the chaos we had been living in for a week and half now.  There is crap everywhere, my life is spiraling out of control and now that school is starting back up I have a great plan.  A plan to get everything back in order, to clean out closets and junk drawers and toys rooms.  It's the same plan I had at the beginning of the summer.  It didn't quite work out.

Today though, I walked in and was greeted by hugs and kisses and pleas to go outside and play.  Particularly to play with a new remote control helicopter that really flies.  Well one that did fly until it crashed one too many times, now it just hobbles along.  And although I know messes can wait and life is meant to be enjoyed, the toll of the mess and the toys strewn everywhere, including said helicopter and remote just got to me.

My answer was no, not until all the other toys were picked up and put away, the ones specifically downstairs.  Upstairs is another gorilla that I plan to tackle later.  And I knew that if I made them pick that up too, then we might be able to get outside with the helicopter by Saturday.  After hearing my condition the kids readily agreed to it.  But no picking up was done.  A few minutes later they made the same request with smiles parked from ear to ear.  Because normally I oblige, but my reply was the same, when the toy room is picked up.  Then came the whining and complaining about how unfair I was.  I know.... I cook, I clean, I wash clothes, I bathe you and pick up your toys....life is devastatingly unfair.

After several more minutes of pleading to go outside, my refusals along with pleading to get them to pick up and of course the empty threat of putting all the toys in a bag for children who didn't have any and would treat them with respect, I did it......

I followed through.

I marched and got myself a garbage bag.  I didn't say another word.  I went into the toy room and starting putting whatever I got my hands on into the bag.  Wii remotes,  monster trucks, a Justin Beiber barbie, and so on and so on.  One by one I calmly and rationally tossed barbie after barbie and monster truck after monster truck into the bag.  Meanwhile my children lost it.  Crocodile tears, screaming, crying, flinging toys around at the unfairness of my actions.  There cries were loud, you would have thought I just announced that air was now being rationed.  They were so hysterical that it scared my baby girl to death and quickly her face scrunched up, tears began flowing and wails ensued.  My heart broke for her, poor thing was scared to death.  Hell I was too.  I put down my bag, forbid anyone to get anything out and scooped up my baby to comfort her.

This made them quiet down a little and the tearful begging to  please give it back, we promise to do better, loads of apologies and plenty of please mamma's, began.  When my response was no, it was too late, things quickly got very disrespectful and with that I sent them to their rooms.  More protests and crying and screaming ensued.  Since Margot was in my arms I did not raise my voice.  I simply pointed to the steps and very sternly said "GO".  More dramatic behavior, apologies, tears and begging, which followed with my arm stretched out and my finger pointed at the steps with me repeating "go....go.....go....GO".  They slowly picked themselves up and started heading that way.

At this point, Margot realized what was going on. Well she at least got the overall picture.  Her big brother and sister were being punished and sent to their rooms.  She began to scramble out of my arms and then crawled over to the steps with them, stood up at the bottom, raised her arm and pointed her finger to the top and yelled "DOE.....DOE.....DOE.....DOE!"

After the bigs had tearfully retreated upstairs, she turned around and clapped and said "YAAAAY!"  And so it begins, the caboose....calling the shots...Lord help me!