Been there, done that

I felt like I was in college again this week. I wasn’t drinking watered down alcohol at a bar while men wearing excessive hair gel hit on my friends. I was trying to put my 4-year-old to bed after a night at the drive-in movie theater. A friend and I set up lawn chairs in the back of her husband’s pickup, got the kids situated with blankets (because Mother Nature is f**king with us again) and snacks. They looked so damn cute sitting there for all of 5 minutes before they decided it would be more comfortable in the minivan. Being a mother means working a waitressing shift that never ends. I was “in the weeds” all night. I suppose it was my own fault for bringing a chair. A chair is comfortable and children don’t ever want you to be comfortable.

My daughter was excited about the movie until the snacks were gone. Then, she had to build a tower with rocks. It was as if the future of the world depended on it. A lot people were counting on her. I wasn’t annoyed at all that I spent money for her to do something she could have done at home for free. She had fun and that’s what matters. That is what parents have to tell ourselves so we don’t lose our minds.

My daughter fell asleep on the way home. I knew I was f**ked. Now, I had to carry her in the house, make her use the bathroom and change into pajamas. We would just roll the cavity dice and skip toothbrushing. I managed to get her into the bathroom upstairs and that is where a struggle ensued. Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t awake. She refused to get off the toilet. Putting an overtired child to sleep is like taking care of Snookie after a night at the club. She was slurring her words, “I’m need to live here.” I tried to be patient. “Come on sweetie, you need to go to bed.” She had a death grip on the toilet seat. I managed to pry her fingers from the porcelain. Then, the bicycle kick started. She was trying to kill me because she wanted to live on a toilet. Think about that.

I carried her kicking and screaming to bed. She passed out within seconds. She would sleep in her clothes that night and didn’t remember a thing in the morning. We’ve all been there.

Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.