Monday couldn't come soon enough

I can make it sound like our weekend was a good one. A morning spent at the Botanical Garden. Playing outside with the hose. Cinnamon rolls for breakfast. Watching fish at the pet store. Friends coming over to play. Jumping up from dinner and running outside to see a beautiful rainbow. All these things actually happened and it makes it sound like we lived the kind of weekend you might see on Pinterest.

In reality, let me just say that no parenting awards were earned this weekend.

Todd decided late Friday night (after a less-than-encouraging update) that he’d go back to Tallassee on Saturday to visit his sick grandmother. I already had plans that we were all going back to the Botanical Garden Saturday morning, but I encouraged him to go. What I disagreed with was taking the kids. I have very strong feelings on taking small children on long road trips just to visit unresponsive people, and by "visit" I mean look at the person, get freaked out, and try to eat goldfish off the hospital floor “oh my god put that down NO SPIT IT OUT NOW.” I convinced Todd to leave me with both children and make the 7-hour round trip by himself. (And since he got stuck in a massive traffic jam on the way back, that was the best decision for him ever.)

So there I was. Outnumbered, with two children who were, for various reasons, being total assholes.  In a house that had passed “messy” about four days before and advanced to “nightmarish and definitely unsanitary.” It was bad.

I tried. I really did. And things were good that morning! Jessica met us at the Garden and helped me wrangle both kids. We saw butterflies, touched turtles, splashed in water, played in a giant sandbox, and generally had a good time. And with Jessica’s help, I didn’t lose Aerin even once.

No, it was lunchtime where everything went downhill. And stayed there. And kept digging.

Lately, I’ve tried to eliminate shouting from my discipline techniques. I prefer things like time out, or taking toys, or dumping a tantruming toddler directly into the baby cage crib and shutting the door, really ANYTHING other than yelling. But ooooooh did I do a lot of shouting this weekend. Also, shrieking, angry sputtering, and death glares.

Like when I discovered Micah using my camera bag (and the SLR, lenses, and video camera in it) as a stool. The only words my brain could formulate were, “GO AWAY. BE SOMEWHERE ELSE. NOW.”  I’m not sure it was intelligible, what with the gritted teeth and all, but he took off and was quiet for a whole five minutes, so I guess the meaning was clear.

Or like when Aerin spent a solid hour whining at me and yelling at her brother, and I finally just gave up.  I ordered pizza, took her room and put her in her crib, went back outside, told Micah to enjoy playing in the hose but not to talk to me, and surfed the web on my phone from the back of my truck until Dominos showed up 30 minutes later.

By the end of the weekend, we were all just DONE with each other. No one liked anyone anymore.

On the upside, I didn’t beat anyone, the house was eventually cleaned, and the children were only a bit neglected. If I couldn’t be nice, at least I didn’t do any lasting harm, I guess.