Sunday, September 7, 2014's so BORING!

Okay, so, I am not that original. I stole that quote from my 4 year old. She is full of epiphanies that many times I stop to ponder. It must be her age, or lack of life bitterness, that allows her to come up with these gems.

It was yet another night when I was trying to explain WHY she needed to go to sleep before 10 and she spouted off with, "But Mom, it is SO BORING!" Well, I can't really argue with that, because, here I am, blogging, tweeting, instagraming when my very smart brain knows I need sleep. However, this is more fun. If only they could create a way to do both: sleep and be active. Akin to plugging our phones into the battery charger while still using them, I would be set.

So no surprise when she came up with some more shockers during our trip to the grocery store today, where, upon her 15th time of getting out of the car cart that mothers across America must LOATHE as much as I do (BAN them I say!) she spouts off with, "This isn't any fun." Big shocker there~ Little Clueless One, Mom doesn't enjoy grocery shopping anymore than you do! The bevy of shoppers walking by while I continually spouted off with, "Please do what I ask the first time. Remember our discussion. What was our deal?" or any other psychological verbiage meant to help keep me sane during a 30 minute shopping trip.

After several more attempts at getting her back into the lame yellow car, AFTER the time she attempted to climb ON TOP of said yellow car, while a shopping acquaintance said, "That could be dangerous." Really? Do you think so? I had pretty much had it. My patience of Job had waned and I was left with, "I'm calling Bryce to tell him you are not coming over to play. He will be so sad." Yes, I had resorted to emotional blackmail at such a young age.

It worked. And shopping became a dream, for at least 2 whole minutes, at which point she said,  "You've got enough food (in the cart) now. Let's go home." Ah, yes, I forgot, you truly are the one in charge. What am I dare thinking? Bringing a list and expecting to get everything on it. At which time some kind lady said, "She is SO cute!" "Yes, she is," I said, "but she is a handful." "I don't care" the woman said, "because she is so darn cute." Is that a compliment? Still not sure.

Our volleys continued, for another 15 minutes, during which she attempted to turn 1 item she can buy into 3 candy bars, an orange juice, and some lip gloss.

I love her. I truly do. Even when she screams, "but you're my awesome mom" from her timeout spot and makes me feel like crap. I still adore her. And I want to tell her: Yes, it is because I am your awesome mom that I need to put you there. Because I know my occupation is a teacher, but my most important job is as your mom. No matter that I say things so many times I think you need a hearing aid, no matter that you ignore me so much I think of your father, no matter the hoarding you do that really makes me think the state might show up at any moment. I need to do right by you as I only get one shot.

So even though it's late, and I should be sleeping, I need to blog about you because some days I amaze myself that I can corral, teach, lead, grow, and counsel 26 kinder bodies for a living, 5 days a week, yet you, my precious, only daughter, gives me a run for my money on a daily basis.

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