Because you’re mine…… I walk the line
Everyday as a parent or stepparent, we walk that very thin line between sanity and losing it. Some of us do better then others but we all do our best at any given moment. Well our buddy Tim had one of those days. Please give him some love and comment after you read. Enjoy!
……… I feel compelled to write this post simply because I came very near to crossing the line today. Since I feel so bad for my actions, I feel the need to explain the day as it proceeded.
Waking up to laughter and screaming. I crawl out of bed with the dog trying to crawl under the bed, while the Tornado and Hurricane are wearing the only suit they own, and shaking what God gave them, at each other. While I try to comprehend how the bin of crayons exploded, and the bookcase was lying down… Yes, the bookcase was laying down, as in no longer standing up, holding books.
I spent the next several minutes remembering how to close a mouth agape, and rubbing the top of my head. Returning, the Tornado asks, “Are we going to church today?”
Mind you at this moment he’s wearing a batting helmet, hockey gloves, and my belt holding a pillow onto his posterior with a bed spread wrapped around him like a toga. Not to mention wielding a TMNT plastic katana. Yes, the thought in the back of your head is the same I had in mine as I wasn’t even awake for ten minutes yet.
“For the love of everything holy, why are you wearing all that?” I ask.
“So if I get my bottom beat, it won’t hurt, came his quick reply, then off he went like his heels were on fire.
I’ll save you the hysterical laughter, and many “WTF’s” later, we come home from church with me having them promise to clean up the mess they made this morning, then we will go skating.
When we walked into the house, my lady (the mother) only got home a few minutes ahead, and I explained to her how the boys promised to clean the living room, and both bedrooms before we would go skating…
Then the boys decided to not do a damn thing but play with toys, whine, then sit and pout. It was when the Tornado, age 6, felt the need to get in his mothers face, and scream at her that he doesn’t want to clean, and no one can make him. Words between mother and child were said, and then I saw his hand ball up into a fist. I snapped.
I picked the kid so we could be face to face, and said a few things I feel remorse over. I never saw his eyes go as wide as they did at that moment.
After that, he left the room, and I grabbed a trash bag and began loading it up, and then set it by the door with both boys crying. Well, the room was clean when I was done. My lady followed suit as well with a trash bag which got both boys following us crying as we picked everything up to throw out.
A good thirty minutes later with two full trash bags, the boys began to understand they still had the option to clean up after themselves as they promised.
After the dust settled and the boys were busy cleaning up their respective messes, I pulled the Tornado aside, explaining how the very first thing I was taught was to always honor and respect my mother and father. And seeing this young boy acting as such sent me into a world of upset and nasty thoughts. I then asked him to apologize to his mother for his actions then did so in turn apologize for mine, to my lady, and her progeny.
Well, we didn’t go skating after the outburst, but come 5pm I did take him outside to catch a few pop-ups, and attempting a movie night, was well… attempted. Yeah the little Hurricane thought it swell to sneak into the kitchen and was caught eating Nestle’s Strawberry milk powder (without a spoon mind you, he was free pouring that crap all over his face and floor). Que the next outburst, followed quickly by tears and screams, “I hate you!”
The movie resumes, and he once again sneaks off to bury his face into the Halloween candy in my lady’s bedroom. Yes the floor is now littered with wrappers. Bed Time!
My lady sits on the couch behind me shaking her head and says, “I used to look forward to laying down and snuggling with them as they fall asleep but I’m just not sure anymore.”
“I wish I could give you some great piece of advice babydoll, but I’m not their father. It’s not my call.”
With that she walks upstairs and oh yes more screams, tears, and whining.
And now with the end of the day finally at hand, I type this out with no clue as what to do next. I love her with all my heart, and her boys are great. I love them to death, but What The Eefff!
Tim Schwartz To follow Tim’s Blogs click here!
– is always pursuing the next challenge in life. Anything from writing the next short story to trying to keep up with a 6 year old’s attention span. He has also been the Organizer and Moderator of the Pittsburgh Writers Meetup Group for the past four years.