These days I find myself giving out unsolicited parenting advice. You didn’t ask for it, but here it is: Don’t have four kids. That’s not really parenting advice though, is it? It’s more like life advice. […]
These days I find myself giving out unsolicited parenting advice. You didn’t ask for it, but here it is: Don’t have four kids. That’s not really parenting advice though, is it? It’s more like life advice. Well, whatever it is, it’s solid advice.
Now, before the hate comments start pouring in (although they probably already have because the haters don’t bother to read the entire post anyway), let me say this: I love my children. I would do anything for them. I love them so hard it hurts. They make my entire life better, and I wouldn’t change one second of this insane life we have.
So, now that we’ve established that I love my children, let’s get back to why I’m telling people not to have four kids. It’s just that four kids is a lot. It’s so many. They’re everywhere. All the time. The oldest one is only 6. She’s getting more self-sufficient, but she’d still prefer that I do everything for her. For example, this morning she wanted to know what I had packed her for lunch. Instead of taking the initiative and looking in her lunchbox to discover for herself what was in there, she followed me around as I tried to get breakfast on the table for the 2- and 5-year-olds and nurse the hungry 5-month-old who had just woken up, and asked me repeatedly to tell her what was in the lunchbox.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CHILD! OPEN THE FLIPPIN’ BOX AND SEE FOR YOURSELF!
Meanwhile, the 2-year-old is screaming because the 5-year-old insulted her and stole one of her coco puffs. And the 5-year-old was also screaming. Why? Because he doesn’t want to hear the 2-year-old scream. And, of course, the baby was still screaming because she is hungry.
My husband and the little girls got out the door, and the bigs (the older two kids) and I decided to walk to school. Upon arrival, I said hello to a fellow mom who stopped, looking nervously at me before she proceeded. (The thoughts in my head were swarming as to why this poor woman looked so nervous to talk to me.) She informed me that I had forgotten to check the 5-year-old’s “homework clip,” and there was a stack of papers there that had to be completed and turned in by tomorrow. It had apparently been hanging there since last week.
I’m so on top of things.
Now, in my defense, the homework clip is not located anywhere near the cubby where the rest of his stuff is. It’s down the hall on a completely separate wall. This means I have to remember to look for my kid’s stuff in two different locations. And that’s just to locate one kid’s stuff … I have four kids. That means there are no less than 11 million places their stuff is hiding at any given moment. And I have to remember to check each and every one or else the dee-dee (the 2-year-old’s special blanket that she sleeps with) will go missing and I won’t know that it’s in the mudroom with the shoes. But I’ll make a mental note to try to remember to regularly check the homework clip from now on.
And it’s not just kid stuff that I can’t keep up with. Last week I wrote some notes for a work presentation that I was doing this week. Then I misplaced the piece of paper. Because of course I did. I did manage to find it though—in the refrigerator on top of some leftover Chinese food.
So, yeah. I’m firing on all cylinders over here.