Bad Parent Award

My children are evil.

I came back from my test today and felt like I was getting ready to give birth. Not a good feeling.

After I crawled down to get my lovely little children from school, and crawled back- because I am a saint- I laid down on the couch and said, Please… no fighting.

Which meant fighting ensued.

So I put them to work. I had a list of tasks they could do, from bringing the garbage can back in to putting books away in their room.

Finally, I told Zachary, I think you’re going to have to cook eggs for dinner tonight. I’m still very sore.

He came over, and kissed my forehead. Sure, Mom.

My heart melted. What a sweet boy.

And before he walked to the kitchen, he said, So how much are you going to pay me to help out?

Evil. I looked at him and said, I’ll consider paying for college.

The kids finally all settled down. No more fighting. I cooked the eggs after taking more Advil. Zachary helped even without financial reward.

Breakfast for dinner, the boys all sighed. We love breakfast for dinner.

To me it means total failure as a mother. Time to nominate me for the bad parent award. Nothing green on the table. I’m not at the table, which means a laughing giggling night of conversation around body parts and bathroom antics. Napkins will be – gasp- left on the table, never used, and never finding their way to the lap.

Oh God, I am my mother’s daughter.

The cut up oranges are good for scurvy, I think to myself. The toast is whole wheat. Everyone serves breakfast for dinner- at least it isn’t cold cereal. I had a chunk of my uterus removed today. I feel like shit. It’s okay not to do everything.

Besides, my children are evil.

Payment, indeed.