Runaway Mom

Rachel (my daughter) and I watched one of our favorite television shows together the other night, The Middle.

I just love the woman who plays the mom and loved her when she was on Everybody Loves Raymond. Anyway, in this episode the mom had reached her tipping point…the moment when if anyone says or does one more thing she’s going to explode. She’s eating a bag of chips when her daughter tells her that her brother clipped his toenails in that bag. After screams and rinsing her mouth out she screams at her son.

“Who would do that! Who would clip their toe nails in a chip bag?” she yelled.

“You complained when I clipped them and they fell on the floor. I thought putting them in a bag would make you happy!” he shot back.

Mom has had enough and leaves saying she’s not coming home until there are some major changes.

That only happens on television….right?

Why is it that sweet baby boys grow into stinky, sweaty teenagers that think clipping their toenails in a chip bag is better than just letting them fall on the floor?  That’s probably a question mom’s of boys have been asking since time began, only in the stone age they probably didn’t even bother to clip them. Gross!

Reality television would have a field day at my house but there’s no way I’m letting them in the front door and I bet I’m not the only one who feels that way. I seriously doubt if there is a mom alive who hasn’t had a “if one more thing happens I’m outta here” moment.

Here are a few of mine:

Justin was about six years old and quite the prankster. I was on the phone when he runs through, sets a glass of yellow liquid down and yells, “Toilets plugged up so I peed in a cup.”  My mouth fell open but when I touched the glass it was cold….apple juice.”

This would have been funny but this was when we were remodeling our house and everything we owned was turned upside down. We were putting new  flooring in and the furniture was all in the den. At the time I was trying to potty train the twins and I remember there was one day there was no way they could get to the bathroom. I took the screens out of the den window and told them to water the grass (desperate times call for desperate measures).

A different day I was at work when I got a phone call from the baby sitter. The workmen were getting ready to lay wood flooring and one of the twins had walked through the glue and was stuck. I could hear him screaming in the background.

But by and far my biggest frustrations over the years have always been about cleaning. When you have a big family and the majority of them are men, it’s like living in gym locker room. Balls, golf clubs, tennis racks, tennis shoes, dirty socks, uniforms, and on and on and on.

I really think my boys are weapons of mass destruction.

Pick a house, any house, and let them go live in it for awhile (please!) and I promise you after a week it will be filled with dirty dishes, dirty clothes and trash.

Now I know some of you are wondering why I just don’t make them clean it up. The answer to that is getting them to clean is like herding cats, impossible. Clean to them is if you can’t see the dirty clothes or dishes (that’s what closets are for…right?)

It’s easier to do it myself than to try and catch them and make them do it.

Last weekend I was gone and my guys cleaned (sort of…they picked up)  and it looked great when I got home but I suspect that their dad did the cleaning because he knows I hate coming home to a nasty house. He knew I was having fun and he was afraid if I came home and the house was a wreck I might leave again. It’s nice to be appreciated….even if it only lasts for an hour or two.

When I reach the breaking point….

I may whine. I may pout. I may scream or yell. I might even burst into tears, but if I leave I’ll be back (eventually) You can count on it because beneath the mess (somewhere) are the people I love most in the world and if they are here…then so am I.

 

One more thing before I go…..

October is breast cancer awareness month and there is something you can do.

Become a part of the NanaHood Friends and Family Team and help the Susan G. Komen Foundation change the future. Don’t do it for me. Do it for my cousin Martha and all the women you know who are engaged in a battle they didn’t want to fight.

If you can bake a cupcake you can help save a life. Bake cupcakes…decorate them pink and sell for a dollar. Then donate the money to the Susan G. Komen foundation through my NanaHood Friends and Family Team.

Martha and I both thank you!