Organized Chaos

I recently had a friend stop by my house mid-chaos. My overtired toddler was tugging on my pants pleading for chocolate or as she pronounces it “cho•co•La•Tay.” (Thanks Dora.) The dog was barking, my 5-year-old had just spilled soda and my soon to be 13-year-old was screaming at the television, “It’s a Glitch! It’s a Glitch!” I have no idea what that means either. I just know it’s not a good thing when a bunch of tweens are fighting a war, trying to save humanity. He was playing “Call of Duty” online with his friends. Listen, I tried to boycott that game, but their father is an Army veteran who served two tours in Iraq. Needless to say, I lost that battle.

Anyway, this same friend called today moments after my 2-year-old locked herself in my bedroom. Why does my door have a lock? I plead the 5th. I am ruining my chances of getting that “#1 Mom” sweatshirt for Christmas, huh?
My daughter was furious because her older brother was singing her song. Apparently she purchased the rights to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” when I wasn’t looking.

My heart started racing the moment I realized the door was locked. I thought about going all Jackie Chan and breaking through the wood. Then, I realized 1.) I would ruin a perfectly good pedicure 2.) I would probably pull a muscle (I’m not in my 20’s anymore) 3.) She wasn’t in immediate danger. I pressed my lips against the door and in a calm Mr. Rogers-esque voice asked, “Honey, Can you open the door for Mommy?” She replied, “Nope-a, Nope-a, Nope-a.” My daughter likes to add a short “a” at the end of the word Nope. It is spoken only when she is being defiant. Well, actually she sings it to me. Pronounced Nope•uh, it really pisses me off and she knows it. I begin to turn and shake the door handle a little more aggressively. You have watched this scene in countless soap opera episodes. You know, the one where a woman comes back from the dead, is being held captive by a family member who has an evil twin and tries to escape. Anyway, she wasn’t budging, “Nope-a, Nope-a, Nope-a.” I had no choice. I could either get a screw driver and remove the door handle (which would be a major pain in my ass) or I could coerce her with false promises. “Do you want some ice cream?” “Nope-a, Nope-a, Nope-a.” I think steam was pouring out of my ears. I pounded on the door, “You open this door right now or you are not watching Dora tonight!” She started crying, stomped her feet and unlocked it. My girlfriend heard this story and said, “Man, I thought I was the only one with a crazy house.” Nope-a, Nope-a, Nope-a.

Read more: CynicalMother.com

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