Mother of the Year 2011

I'm not feeling good.  My body hurts and I'm exhausted.  The two go hand in hand and when I get like this, it affects my mood and my ability to deal with things I normally don't struggle with.  Parenting burnout is one of those things.  I wasn't going to write about it, but you know what?  We all deal with it and parents of little ones with special needs especially deal with it.  Throw a full time job and a couple of teenagers on top and you bet your ass its exhausting at times.

So, last night it hit me.  It was 5pm and it was a long day already.  My legs hurt, my right hip feels like its on fire and the pain travels down the leg to my ankle.  I know there is arthritis in there and the fibro doesn't help, but this is a new one that starts in my ass. Yes people.  A pain my ass.  Sciatic nerve?  Who freaking knows.  It balances out the slipped disc thing in my neck.  Whatever.  I was miserable. And the boys picked up on it (I wasn't very subtle).   They fought.  They smashed each other with various toys, pillows, play swords and I think I saw a boot fly across the room.  And they climbed all the things.  Did you know a recliner is scalable?

I got them to the table to eat and do their homework.  They refuse said food and homework.  I bribed with Halloween candy.  It was like a goddamn auction house:

Three bites of mac and cheese for two pieces of candy?
 Do I hear four?  Four bits of mac and cheese?
 And now five, how about five?  Three candies for five!  Going once, going twice...
Sold! To the boy with marker on his face and missing shoe!

And so they ate and they read me a story.  This took the better part of an hour.  And then they climbed the couch, again.

[As a quick digression:  How the HELL do parents of young kids have nice anything?  Seriously.  I mean this.  I have a hand-me-down couch (thank you Aunty!) that deserves an award for surviving last night.  Why?  Why must they always be climbing this thing?  I know there are parents out there with new stuff and nice carpets and made beds.  Do you just stay up all night cleaning?  Do your children take Prozac?  How is this happening when in my house all the things are climbed?]

By 6:10pm I realize there is no way all three of us are going to survive the night.  I walked Seth to the computer and sat him down.  I gave the mouse a good shake to wake it up and I said, "Please Seth.  Please, for the love of God and all things holy, please play a video game for an hour.  For mommy.  Do it for mommy."

I forced my son to play a video game folks.  I get Mother of the Year.  Sorry all you home-schoolers, bakers, PTO organizers and Martha Stewart wannabes.  I win.  I want the freaking trophy so that my sons can break it when they scale the entertainment center to get to it.  I want it so my dogs can chew it up and my daughters can leave it on the floor of their room, under the laundry pile.  I want it to get lost under my bed with a few mateless socks and a random shoe whose partner was lost three years ago.  I want the Mother of the Year award to sit in my minivan for a month because I'm too lazy to make two trips.   All because I forced my six year old son to play Minecraft.

It was that or the bottle of Maker's Mark. I think I chose wisely.