Potluck meltdown times 2

Sometimes parenting isn’t easy, let’s just get real for a second.

It’s Sunday night and I don’t know about you but I get a little batty because it’s the deadline for getting things done before going back to work/school. Tonight, because of our full  weekend there is a laundry everywhere, school supplies all over the floor, lunches to be made for camps, oh and both of my boys are in their rooms crying.

Let me back up…tonight we went to a neighborhood potluck. I made veggie kabobs and a southwest quinoa salad. It took me awhile to prep and some very nice young fingers helped. We went, ate, played games and then it was time to go. I gave the 5 minute warning, the 2 minute warning. When it was time to go, I said thank you to the host and encouraged everyone to go home. We live right next door, so not so difficult, but it still took awhile. When we got home, I asked everyone to put pjs on and brush teeth while I made lunches. My daughter did. Boys not so much. In fact, they went out the back door to keep watching the party, I had to ask them three times to come in, again.

By now, I am getting a little annoyed. One goes upstairs, the other sits on the couch and boycotts. I encourage the couch sitter to go upstairs and I follow him up, noticing the other one is jumping on his bed. I mention to the bed jumper that he has two minutes to put on his pjs or he will need to go to bed without reading time this evening. Meanwhile the couch sitter starts crying, and crying. I check on the bed jumper and he is still jumping. I say goodnight and turn out the light, he starts crying, loudly.

I can feel the steam coming out of my ears, I have lunches to make and five loads of laundry in my room to put away. I sit down, inhale and exhale and text a friend for moral support. “Ok, I’ve go this,” I think to myself.

I go into the bed jumpers room where he is still crying, I start folding laundry on his floor and asking questions. At first I get a “grunt”, then a “no” then an actual answer, we are getting somewhere. Eventually, he stopped crying, told me he was sad to leave the potluck, we had a hug and he put on his pjs. Phew! Now on to the couch sitter.

The couch sitter is still crying in his room.  He’s upside down on his bed crying into his pillow. I ask questions, nothing. Then I start talking about the number of mosquito bites I got this evening (10 at least) and pretending my hand is a mosquito. He swats the mosquito (my hand) with his pillow and starts to play a little bit. I start to slowly talk about what happened this evening. He was having a fun time and didn’t want to go too. We have a hug and he goes to bed.

Oh, thank goodness.

Now it’s off for a date with that laundry and PB & J sandwiches for tomorrow. I’m glad the potluck meltdown times two is done. Parenting isn’t always easy but as I check on my sleeping ones, I am reminded how grateful I am to be their mama. 

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