Little Kids are Mutant Zombies — A Rant to End All Rants

I love my kids, but…that is the whole point of my blog, after all. There is often a BUT when I start a sentence this way, as these little hellions get the better of me on a daily basis. And today was one of those days, so here goes.

BEGIN RANT:

Can we just talk for a second about the lollygagging that goes on with little ones? I swear, if I ever plan on being on time to anything ever again, I need to start leaving the house 45 minutes before I need my car to leave the driveway. It usually looks like what went down today:

Me: Guys, come on, it’s time to go.

Boys: We’re watching a show.

Me: (trying to sound like this is going to be fun) But we’re going to the club…the CLUB! Where you guys can go run around and have fun while Mommy works out.

*Crickets*

Me: Guys, I really mean it now. I’m not fucking kidding. <I give myself an internal high-five because I censored myself, but I know this might not last long.>

They get up and run out the door.

Me: Uh, Guys, you forgot your shoes. Go get your shoes.

Older dude goes inside to get the shoes. Little dude finds something in yard that’s interesting…probably steps in dog shit to go observe. Big dude sees show is still on and sits back down on the couch.

Me: GET OUT HERE NOW! <Neighbors are now keeping watch in case the authorities need to be called and, at this point, it may be me that makes the call> Little dude, get over here — stop chasing that lizard! Stop it!

I run inside to get workout towel — use it to wipe sweat off my face from chasing around these little asshats.

They’re now both in the driveway — PROGRESS! We may just make this class after all. Start getting older dude in the car when little dude cries out that he needs to be first. He is two, after all. Don’t finish strapping in older dude and go around to strap in little dude. Lean in to kiss him, as I’m nothing if not a glutton for punishment, and he socks me in the kisser. It’s always a risk.

Older dude has now wandered off, possibly trying to get that lizard. I consider throwing myself on the ground and crying, but I remember the neighbors. What are YOU looking at, huh? I go get older dude and get him in the car.

Aaaaand we’re off…

Get to the club, and get the boys out. This is when they start acting like they’re from the movie Awakenings — like they’re seeing the world around them for the very first time. They walk slowly in what looks to be some sort of Zombielike trance, amazed by…what?  What is it? It’s a fucking parking lot, dudes! I scramble them in the best I can, tears threatening to brim over and, at this point, I know they won’t stop. I get them into the daycare, sign them in, and try to get little dude’s shoes off  but he has decided, “No, I don’t want my shoes off,” even though those are the rules, as I remind him with my teeth clenched so tightly I can taste last night’s dinner. I leave for my class, ten minutes late, with the sound of little dude wailing in the background.

Debate going to lie down in car instead of working out. Ugh.

END RANT 

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Comments

  1. Val says:

    Reminds of the times (yes this happened EVERY time) when the girls were babies and I would FINALLY put the really cute outfit on them (you know the one…. got it at a baby shower but needed somewhere significant to wear it to….) get ready to walk out the door and KABAM… GIANT mushy, up the back, on to the beautiful outfit sh*t…..

  2. Hey Marnie, I read your post the other day about a plate of shut the hell up and after reading this blog I feel truly blessed that I have been lead to your blog. Every time I am struggling with something my mom tells me you have a new post and wouldn’t you believe it you are dealing with the same things I am at the same time. I started to write a vent of my own and it ended up being a long as a entry so I just added it to my blog. However I did link your post in mine so please check mine out.

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