This year, as every year, I resolve...

To not make any resolutions. There , I said it. I mean really- why set myself up for failure? You are probably wondering why I have such a pessimistic point of view. I prefer to think of it as being realistic. I know, I know... isn't changing my thoughts, behaviors and beliefs the point of this blog?

I would rather set goals for myself (in the privacy of my own brain), than lay it all out there and probably embarrass myself when my grand schemes disintegrate, possibly even explode in my face- just as the bell tolls for the next New Year. I might even write it down on paper, setting a goal date, and at the very most share my ambitions with the Male Income Support Unit, but that's a stretch.

Now that we have that out of the way, New Year's day was nothing out of the ordinary for my family. We had 2 sick, cranky and just plain mean kids on our hands, making us sarcastic and unusually jaded about parenthood.

That being said, I about to admit something potentially humiliating. Please don't take *anything you are about to read out of context. As I said, my children were in particularly vicious moods yesterday, causing the sarcasm in us to bubble forth- mostly for sanity's sake.

Case in point: Emma and Anna had already started off the day with shouting, tug of wars, scratching, hissing and screeching- which continued through lunch (which were followed by parental shouting, threats, and jaw clenching):

Anna: Give me my dirty tissue back! NOW!

Emma: NO! Miiiiiiine! *as she runs away*

Anna: Now, Emma!

Emma: No! I need dat!

Now, replace dirty tissue with: barf bowl, bracelet, toy kitty, pillow, blanket, spot on couch, drink, sanity... You get the picture. In between scratching and hissing, there came periodic pleas/demands from the other side of the safety gate, while John worked on his computer and I worked on Anna's "Princess Chores" Chart (which later I realized is ironic because princesses don't have chores, but I will keep that tidbit to myself).

1.Anna:
a.Owwwwww-ow-ow, my nose hurts.
b.I can't stop coughing. (shortly after refusing cough medicine)
c.I'm cold. Can you turn up the heat? (but refuses to go put sweats or robe on)
d.I will only eat lunch if you let me wrap a blanket around myself while I sit at the table. (followed by our refusals, and threats to eat her lunch)
e.*sitting at the table, sans sweats, robe and blanket* I will only eat if you let me use a blanket!

2.Emma:
a.I wan mulk (milk), now.
b.I wan hnack (snack), now.
c.I wan momma, now. I wan dada, now.


Now I will give you our responses *read as sarcastic mutterings under our breath, causing each other to giggle like 6 year olds*

1.
a. Maybe if you wold actually blow it instead of dabbing at it every 2 seconds, it wouldn't hurt.
b. Too bad for you.
c. Put some clothes on! *mutter* ya freak.
d. Mmm, these chicken nuggets taste good.
e. Not gonna happen

As a bonus, here is Emma's response to e:
Eat!*pointing at Anna's plate*
While John chides Emma, he tells her, "Emma, no, no. That's my job, and mommy's job."
To which Emma says, "An ME!"
Meanwhile mommy makes no effort to disguise that fact that she is laughing so hard she is about to fall off the chair.

2.
a.Say please.*mutter* ya freak.
b.smack?
c.*John mumbles as he makes his way to the kitchen* I want you to kiss my butt.

Emma's response to 2c (which by the way is surprising since John said it so low, I barely heard it):
No butt *kissing noise*. No butt diss.

Again, my response was to collapse into a shuddering, gasping heap on the floor.

I think John and I are both perfect candidates for Christian Parent's of the Year.

All in all, a promising glimpse of what the new year will bring. :O)


*No children were harmed in the making of this post, and no permanent or long term emotional scarring is evident at this time.