Thought I was going to be blogging about how aggravated I am with my children, especially my eleven year old. Almost popped a vein this morning yelling at the top of my lungs. I try to instill organizational skills within their beings because it's so much easier getting up every morning when you've prepared for the next day, the night before. So, I'm already annoyed because the fourteen year old didn't wake the eleven year old up before he left for school. By the grace of God, I woke back up around 7:33. I climb out of bed and go into my sons' room. The eleven year old is fast asleep, like he doesn't have a care in the world. I wake him. I go back into my room and climb back into bed, complaining about having to wake up to wake someone else up...it just doesn't make any sense. I'm laying there, listening for the squeak of their door. No squeak. I lay there for a few more minutes; still no squeak. Uggghhhhhh, I climb back out of bed and stomp back into the room. The door squeaks when I open it and he lifts up. I'm annoyed now, foreal. "GET UP!" I shout. I climb back into bed. I must have drifted back off, only to be woke up with, "Momma, where did you say my notebook was?" "IT'S ON THE FLOOR BY YOUR DRESSER!" I said, my nerves beginning to twitch in my neck. "Fourteen Year Old must have taken it because it's not there," he says, not knowing the danger that's brewing. I layed there for a minute, trying to collect myself. If he had put the notebook in his book bag yesterday EVENING, we wouldn't be going through this. Time is getting away from him; he only has ten minutes before it's time for him to leave. Soooooooooooo, I get out of bed ONCE more. I go in the room, looking around and fussing the whole time about it doesn't make sense for his brother to have taken his notebook because I JUST bought both of them and myself one apiece. I'm looking all around and he's in the bathroom brushing his teeth. I check his book bag, where it should be; nothing. Then I catch sight of the underside of a notebook under the little table that holds their radio. I flip it over and low and behold, HIS red notebook. "HERE IT IS!" I shout as I took the poor, defenseless notebook and slam it onto the floor like an opponent in the wrestling ring. I leave the room and immediately sit down at my computer. There's no way I'm going to climb back into bed; my fiance' is probably shaking like a leaf from the earthquake that has just occurred outside the bedroom door. When I get upset, you can hear me as far as two neighborhoods away. So I'm sitting at the computer and here's my son looking around in the laundry baskets OUTSIDE of their room. Two nights before, I had told them if I catch them looking for their stuff outside of their bedroom, where it should be, I'm going to jack them up and what is he doing, LOOKING FOR STUFF OUTSIDE OF HIS ROOM. I'm like, "What are you looking for?!" "My grey t-shirt," he says. Okay, what happens next, I'm not even gonna blog about, alls I gotsta say is, it wasn't pretty. I hate to send my children out into the world after I've verbally beat them up, but it's a lot better than when I used to send them to school after whipping their butts. He leaves out, and I don't even tell him to have a good day like I normally do. I am pissed beyond pissed. My fiance' finally makes his way out of the bedroom and asks me if I'm alright, NO I'M NOT ALRIGHT, I GET SICK AND TIRED OF SAYING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN EVERY DAY. WHEN I START JACKING THEM UP, THEN I'M GONNA BE WRONG, BUT IF I HAVE TO JACK THEM UP IN ORDER TO GET THEIR ATTENTION, I WILL AND I BET THEY'LL GET THE MESSAGE THEN!!! He agrees that it's ridiculous for me to be saying the same thing over and over.
Well that's how my morning started, and this post wasn't supposed to be about what I just wrote, but about the teacher who blogged about the "lazy, whining" children. Since I've already typed so much, I'm not even gonna talk about her too much except to say, I ABSOLUTELY, TOTALLY, UNEQUIVOCALLY AGREE WITH HER, WHOLE-HEARTILY. Until next time..."Live your life by loving yourself."