I have realized recently (or at least come out of denial about) that I am not the most patient person in the world. I used to think I was, and I still have the amazing ability to wait for a parking space or stand in line at the grocery store for like 30 minutes, but for some other things, I just have too short of a fuse me thinks...
Recently I made sugar cookies with the kids. I didn't have that lackadaisical,
let them be kids attitude, instead I said things like, "be careful with the spoon!" or, "don't fling the dough out it has raw egg in it!" or, "ack! don't lick your fingers you'll get salmonella!" And then, when it was time to drop spoonfuls onto the cookie sheet I pleaded, "that's not enough!" and, "no, no, do it like this!" and, "no, no no!" Sigh. What is wrong with me? Poor kids.
Then I made the frosting. For those of you who know, my baking endeavors often end up piles of sugary disasters. This time the goal was to make pink and white frosting. I decided to put all the ingredients into gallon zip lock bags and mush them all together, guessing on the right combination for the consistency. Then I thought I would just cut a tiny hole in the corner and glossy, smooth frosting would ooze out slowly and cover the yummy cookies, just like when Martha does it. Well...
The white frosting, really, looked like yellow-tinged snot from a person that needs serious antibiotic treatment, and the pink? Yeah...too much red food coloring made it look like coagulated pig's blood, a concoction that I REALLY needed to put into the hands of my six-year-old in our carpeted dining room. Then the conversation went like this...
Me: "Hold this over the cookies, the cookies, COOKIES!"
Me: "ACK! No! Not over the carpet!"
Me: "Don't squeeze that hard!"
Me: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" [that was when Jacob held the coagulated pig's blood, frosting tip down, toward the carpet and swung it around]
Oh, in case you're curious...

Really, they look even grosser in real life. But, sprinkles make everything look better, kinda like a tan...anyway...
So yes, in these cases I put myself in the predicament. But this is what I really want to talk about. Brushing teeth.
You all, this drives me...insane. And while I know I am not alone (read Kearsie's tooth-brushing dramas
here) it is
pure insanity because truly, I fall into a
Twilight Zone episode every night, hoping for a different result. It's like this...
Me: "Kids, time for teeth brushing!"
Kids: *Running around, totally ignoring my command*
Me: "Kids, upstairs,
now, and I don't want any playing around!
Get your teeth brushed!"
Kids: "OK mommmmmmmmmmie!"
They scramble upstairs, slam-dancing the whole way, cram through the bathroom door and simultaneously grab the drawer, fighting to open it. I hear,
Audrey: "Jacob! Jacob STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!"
Jacob grabs the tooth paste AND Audge's tooth brush, laughing hysterically.
Audrey: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!:
Me: "Hey! You two stop it now! BRUSH YOUR TEETH!"
Suddenly Audrey announces she has to go potty, and shoves Jacob out and slams the door. He refuses to go downstairs and finish brushing, as he giggles and my face turns red while I contemplate banging my head against the wall. She forgets to flush the toilet, again, and I again, tell her to
flush it!!! They reposition and attempt to follow my directions.
Audrey is left handed, Jacob is right. They stand on the wrong sides of the sink, and bump elbows, over and over, which purposefully starts another whining and shoving match I get to break up, while yelling, "
brush your teeth! They're gonna fall out if you don't!"
Then it's the mirror. They don't have the ability stay on either side of the divide, like I order them to, every night, so more shoving and screaming ensues which causes those pretty little spit paste marks to speckle their reflection, and more yelling, pleading, and threatening is dished out. I have at least tapped my head lighting against the wall by now...
Then it's the sink. Apparently it just isn't big enough for two small children to spit into at the same time, and of course, they MUST spit at the same time, and they LOVE to spit, and they attempt to spit out every blasted bit of moisture in their mouth. More shoving and MORE spitting and yelling follows...
And really during all this time, which is about oh, 15 minutes of pure mayhem, they have just managed to hold the toothbrush in their mouth, and while laughing and yelling and shoving and spitting, toothpaste drool has dribbled down their chins and onto their pajamas and the floor. By this time I have threatened to take away every electronic device they own. cancel play dates, take away favorite loveys, and even threatened an impromptu dentist visit. Sometimes it works, sometimes I just cry...
So then I take over the brushing, because I seriously don't have time for teeth to be falling out or collecting cavities. Brushing an 8-year-old's teeth is about as easy as brushing my (now deceased) chihuahua's teeth, except instead of being violently bitten I am almost knocked over by the smell of tonsil breath and the spray of paste spit that covers me while he tries to talk to me. OH! Wait! Don't forget the flossing! It goes like this:
Me: "LOOK AT ME! I can't floss while you're looking over there!"
Jacob: "OW!"
Me: "What?"
Jacob: "Your nail is hurting my cheek!"
Me: Sorry, this isn't as easy as it..." [a big piece of food flies off the string and lands in my eye]
Jacob: "AAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"
Me: *GAG* "Tonsil breath!!"
This happens every night people. Is something wrong with me? Wait! Don't answer that, just have a cookie...*GAG*
