Tuesday, September 2, 2008

No Jurl Is Perfect.....

The other day Sam was melting down (again) so I put her in her room to cool off. She flew right over the cuckoo's nest and tore up her room in a fit of rage (we have those a lot around here) so I took a trash bag into her room and gave her three warnings that if she didn't pick up the stuff she threw all over the joint I would bag up every single thing on the floor. Three warnings!!

She refused. Well, I guess she refused, who could understand her with all the screaming, head spinning, and spittle flying all over the place? Oh, and she threw a half-eaten apple at me, hitting me square in the face. Oh, no she didn't! I filled that trash bag with every toy that had the misfortune to have landed on her floor. At first I was going to withhold them forever, but then Sam negotiated a deal where she would earn each one back with good behavior.

I sat the bulging trash bag in the laundry room. The same place I put real bags of trash for Husband to take outside. The toys were in the same white, hefty bag we use for trash. Can you guess what happened?

That's right, Husband thought it was a bag of real trash and took to the curb where the sanitation department of Dallas, Texas collected my child's toys for good.

Oh, boy. Sam still doesn't know, but Husband is not happy with me. I feel bad even though she still has plenty of stuff (too much stuff), because I can't remember what all was in there. I know there were some barbies, some books, some play jewelery......

Good thing I don't stash wads of cash in hidey places because for sure I'd put it somewhere that Husband always burns things in or throws out or destroys in some way. I so didn't mean for her toys to get tossed.....

My parenting skills are really taking a beating lately. It doesn't seem to matter what I do it always feels wrong. Except taking the T.V. away, that I know is the right thing to do, but everything else is a fuster cluck.

It's bad enough I can't be trusted not to ruin my own life, but to ruin it for Sam and Tubbs, that just seems too cruel for words.

I just don't have enough of the mom stuff to really make it work. I don't have enough patience, enough energy, enough joy for living, enough confidence, enough organization, enough, enough, enough, enough....

Hold up, let's not go crazy.

I do love them despite the trouble they cause. And I did paint my entire daughter's room like a fairy forest and painted an astronaut scene for Jake's room. I'm also pretty good at reading bed time stories because I have a catalog of funny voices (so I think). Oh, and I make fabulous Halloween costumes that rock the haunted house. I'm never above acting silly and I love to shake it to High School Musical 1 & 2. I even give good pedicures for little feet. I laugh at fart jokes and have given up all privacy for my wee ones. Not to mention the other million things I do fabulously. So, it's not like they're getting completely short-changed. Clearly, I have a few things to offer, though that bag of toys isn't one of them....

8 comments:

Bobono said...

Speaking as a mother who had to replace her sons collection of Godzilla action figures after she bagged them up and donated them to the landfill, shit happens! If that's the worst your daughter has to remember, you've done well. I've given my children many stories for their future visits to the therapists couch.

Claudia said...

Oh No... Sam will get over it. If her room looked anything like my son's room, she probably has many other toys to replace the ones she lost... It's still pretty funny though...

Misti D. Mosteller said...

bobono- that makes me feel much better! You know, moms should really get a cut of the therapist's take.

Claudia- you're right, of course. she has more than enough. and it is funny....everyday i feel more like lucille ball. lucille ball in a magical musical with lots of self-created drama.....

RamblingMother said...

Coffee just came out my nose. LOL!! didn't see that coming at all. Sam won't miss it surely!!

Kate's Mom said...

Don't be so hard on yourself! We will always feel that we do not have enough of us to go around- especially being mommies who are type-A personalites-- nothing is ever enough (in our eyes)! But Sam and Jake will always have enough love from you. That is really all that matters.

That really is funny though! Look on the bright side- at least Jeff took out the trash!!!

Misti D. Mosteller said...

Kate's Mom- yeah, they're pretty lucky to have me! thanks for the support.

Anonymous said...

Oh my gosh, I did that same thing about a year ago. But, the bag my hubby threw away contained all of my daughters dolls!! And, not just ordinary dolls-- oh no, they happened to be her American Girl bitty baby and all of the expensive dolls her Grandma spoils her with. Oh yeah... I feel like I will never live that one down. And the sad thing is, my hubby actually told my daughter that her dolls were "accidentally" thrown out because she kept asking for them so now anytime we pass a dumpster, she serioulsy asks if her "Amanda" (ie. her favorite doll) is in there! Needless to say, we did replace some of the dolls... but it still makes me sick to think about it :(.

Holly Golightly said...

Jurl-- my son is in trouble at school for hitting other kids. I'm going to tell him your story and threaten to have you come over if he ever does it again.

I did the unthinkable and hid his "night night" (favorite baby blanket) one night after an extremely offensive fit. I went to bed completely distracted with kid stuff, work stuff, my own flare for self created drama was raging out of control, and the next morning, I couldn't find night night. I searched high and low. Eventually it turned up (in the washing machine) but I felt like CPS should have taken me away and replaced me with a crack whore who would at least respect the sanctity of the night night.

They're stuck with us, and I'm in full agreement that we should get a cut of the therapist bills, though I also think my mom should have to pay mine, so I'm not sure what the answer is there. Pardon my rambling.