There are a ton of things I adore about raising tweens/teens. I’m happy to go on and on about how awesome older kids are – but I realized very quickly this weekend that the fact that I cannot physically move my children to force them to do something is one of the biggest drawbacks.
This past Friday, the kids and I were driving 45 minutes south to hang at my parents for the day. We had to be there by 8:45 am so I could start my work day – we were already running a tad behind because we had to drop the kitten off at the vet. So, we’re hustling, just about to get on the highway, when the Bean let’s out a shriek from the backseat that can be heard for miles.
There is a spider on the arm rest next to her and she’s losing her mind. The Bean hates spiders – somethings I wrote about here – and she was going into panic mode.
I pulled over as quickly as I could and Beaner jumps out of the car, freaking out. I quickly took care of the spider and told her to get back in the car. She flat out refused. Nope. Not happening- she’s not getting in the back of the van again. Ever. For her whole life.
I’m quickly looking at my watch, looking the Bean and looking at Scorch, who is laughing his fool head off from the front seat, trying to figure out the best way to manage this nonsense so I can get to work on time. We’ve got two choices: keep going to my parents and go back home. Either way, we have got to get back in the car to get to where ever we’re going.
I take stock and hope that if I can get the Bean to ride shotgun, Scorch will ride in the backseat and we can just go somewhere. Yes, the Bean is too small to ride shotgun usually but desperate times and all that.* I tell the kids the plan and Scorch, between snorts of laughter, refuses to move. Flat out refuses to move. I calmly tell him to move his hiney so we can get going and he’s just like – Nope. And the Bean is like Nope when I tell her to get in the back seat. So, we have a stand off.
After a quick few minutes of negotiations and some not-so-quietly shared threats, I finally get the Bean back in the backseat and we’re on our way. But I’m ticked- like, really, really, really angry that Scorch wouldn’t move his seat and that the Bean is scared of spiders and that we’re running behind and that I have so much to do. Basically, I was in a tizzy over everything.
And Scorch, bless his complete inability to read the room, pipes up next to me as we’re pulling out of the parking lot where all this has gone down, “Mom, do you see….”
And because I’m so freaking ticked off at this point, I cut him off quickly and without much thought to what’s coming out of my mouth, yelling:
“YOU are not allowed to talk. I don’t SEE ANYTHING – and I don’t care what you see. You could see Mickey Mouse shitting rainbows right now and I don’t want to hear a word about it!”
“Mickey Mouse shitting rainbows” is not a phrase I thought I’d ever utter in my life. Yet, here I am, earning my Parent of the Year award in a Wendy’s parking lot on a summer morning.
If you need a babysitter or any parenting tips, y’all know where to find me.
(stop judging me, JT, I can hear you from here).