Talking to walls has become all too common and the disrespect has finally brought out my inner Madea… not kidding. Today I found myself bent over and out of breath with one hand on my right thigh while I fanned my face with the left, sweat beading up on my forehead, praying for Lord Jesus to give me strength. Then laughing like I was unstable. That what kids do to you..they make you feel insane.
Lemme break it down for ya. My husband and I have been married for 2 year tomorrow but we’ve lived together for nearly 3. He has three kids as do I. My three are 25, 23 and 13 while his are 18, 16 and 14.
My youngest two are 10 years apart basically making my baby an “only.” For me, having my youngest two 10 years apart was a blessing. I’ve been able to really enjoy the “baby,” you know?
Life wasn’t hard with 1 child in the house. (The other two are grown and moved out) There was no arguing or stinginess. There was no drama, everything was orderly and life ran smoothly. When I married my husband I knew it was going to be a transition for everyone especially for my “only” who had never had to share a single item in her life. We went from our house where she had her own room into a decent sized townhouse where she’d have to share a room with two other girls. All of her things were put into the garage because there was just not enough space. We coped. She adjusted well to my surprise. It’s not easy to to go from an only to one of three.
From day one I have tried to treat all the girls the same and given the same expectations to them. I kept it very simple…
1) go to school and get DECENT grades. Not perfect grades
2) keep your room/bathroom PICKED UP- not ocd perfect
3) put your dirty clothes in the basket and I WILL DO THEM
4) personal hygiene: basically take pride in yourself.
It took only a year of me busting my ass trying to make life easier for the girls before I went on strike. Hahahaha
The laundry I was doing didn’t get put away so I quit doing it for them. The room I was trying to keep organized and straightened went to shit because I stopped cleaning it- – we won’t even discuss their hazmat level bathroom.
I stopped going to the grocery. I stopped cooking. I stopped mothering all of them which broke my heart.
After a few days of dads cooking, life went back to our normal. There’s only so much you can do with salsa and meat. hahahahahaha
In year two, things went up and down like roller-coaster. It seemed that as soon as life was going easy someone needed to stir shit up– always some sort of damn drama to contend with. There were times the whole bunch of them made me feel like an outsider, like I was not needed, leaving me mentally exhausted. I cried a lot and I have never been a crying type.
Year three got a lot better towards the middle. The drama pretty much stopped but I’ll be damned if the disrespect still runs rampant in the house. You know those few expectations I had (have) well.. apparently those few things I want to be done are too hard for grown ass kids… I went upstairs today looking for Wilson, the cat, and I walked into the remnants of a level 4 hurricane. So I did what any fed-up momma would do..I took a lot of photos and texted them to the messy party and my husband. Then I went downstairs, grabbed a box of trashbags and came back up to clean their rooms/bathroom my way! Three trashbags FULL (and I’m talking those flex bags that stretch real good) later I could see the floors. That’s why I was bent over fanning my sweaty face and praying for strength. It took me all of 5 minutes in a bit of rage to bag up all the crap they apparently saw as trash… you know, since it was just tossed about the rooms like garbage.
My husband and I spoke about it all.
We also spoke to the kids about it all.
I explained my point of how it’s disrespectful to me to blow off my rules like they don’t matter. I ask for very little and what I get back is less than that. I tried to explain again about self pride.. respecting their space and their things. Know what I got? Some whipped up tears and told that my expectations were too high. 😨 For the love of everything Holy it was all I could do to sit there and remain calm.
Later when talking to the oldest I hit the nail on it’s head when I said, “You aren’t lazy you just don’t want to do it..” She agreed.
It’s soooo aggravating.
I really can’t understand what is so difficult about picking up YOUR shit.