I think I have settled on Huck’s 4th birthday party theme and it’s Looks Like We Made It.
I’m kidding of course. Mostly because they don’t sell paper plates with that on it, and also Huck is rather insistent that it’s going to be a Paw Patrol Party no matter how often I point out that the Mayor is crazy weird about her chicken…but truly you guys, I think we might make it! Slowly but surely the sweet little Huck is conquering the threenager! There are more smiles than tantrums and my little love is more and more himself. Good times. And thank God because, if I am being honest I worry that I am not a very good mother for and to him. I can’t seem to find his currency to help him. No discipline works, he hits me, kicks me and is basically just freaking three to the extreme. Then two minutes later he wants to cuddle and I have emotional whiplash. Time out! No, wait cuddle! I start the day very patiently saying “I know you’re upset but I can’t allow you to hit people.” and by 5 p.m. I’ve poured a Malibu and diet coke (cause I’m classy) and I’m like “I’mma smack you back!” all extra Southern-like and he just laughs cause between you, me, and BeyMax we all know I’m never gonna smack him and most of all he knows it.
I’m struggling and I know it’s harder because I am so freaking tired.
The other day we were driving to school and Max saw a man with his hand out the window, cigarette smoke trailing upward. “Hey mom! Isn’t that the Mad Men logo?” he said. Just make sure you spell my name right on that parenting award.
The other day I said “please don’t lick your sister” and “get your junk off your brother’s head!” no less than 25 times. That’s S-T-E-P-H-A-N-I-E.
Right now they are laying on the floor half-watching Ghostbusters 2 while I watch Game of Thrones. They are super grumpy with me cause I was horrible mom today who took them to the bounce house with friends and then a play date. Why are they so angry with me when we did nothing but have fun ALL day??? Worst mom ever. Last name D-U-L-L-I.
So go ahead kids, watch a little tv while I make some mac n cheese. (Don’t worry, internet, it’s organic Amy’s, I’m not a total monster.) ( I’m going to feed them that organic goodness as soon as they finish their red dye filled popsicles.)
But then I think of Sally Draper wearing the dry cleaning bag and being told she’ll be in a lot of trouble if the clothes are on the floor and I think well, at least on my worst day I’m still a better mother than Betty Draper.