Let the Weekend Battles Begin

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Most people enjoy the weekend.  Ah, it’s FRIDAY!!! can be heard from so many.  Not that I don’t like Friday, Saturday, and Sunday but it means my children will be able to drive one another crazy for the next 60 hours–I think of it as summer break in little segments.

Here is how mine went:

Pre-battle Friday:  I had gone to school to do a little volunteer work and ran longer than I had planned.  I forgot about the teen’s social calendar and he was hot on my heels when I got home.  Wanting to know where I had been, when was I taking him to X, how long was it going to take me to fix dinner, did I realize he had places I was supposed to take him.  This didn’t go so well for him.  Note to self, he is growing because his eyeballs are now almost level with mine.

Dinner Battle:  The war brewed when it was time for dinner.  The teen wanted to instruct the queen on OJ pouring and the tween decided to drag his heels on eating brocoli.

After Dinner Bomb:  I had enough of everyone and sent them to clean their rooms.  That will teach them, right?

Sneak Attack:  Saturday morning I took a quick glance in the laundry room and it looked like a bunker had been built out of dirty laundry.  There was a pile seven feet long and two feet high taking up much of the laundry room.  The teen, tween, and queen are notorious for cleaning up their rooms by taking everything to the laundry area.

Bathroom Battles:  While showering the queen barged into my bathroom screaming loudly that the teen was trying to kill the tween and what was I going to do about it.  Still trying to figure out why she is the only person on earth who doesn’t understand that I really like to be alone while showering and brushing my teeth.  Even growing up where five of us lived in a teeny tiny house with one bathroom, everyone left me alone when I brushed my teeth.  I don’t think I have brushed my teeth alone for at least the past week.

Waffle Bombs:  The queen has learned to use the toaster and uses it every chance she gets.  Saturday seemed like a good day for her to practice her culinary skills.  While heating waffles, she and the teen decided to debate the legal rights of a seven-year old and whether or not the Constitution involves her.  This rose to a very loud crescendo which then required my prowess.  I did what any crazy mom would do and started throwing away waffles.  The teen decided it was his legal right to eat waffles and get a ride to baseball which I was beginning to think might not happen anytime in the next century.

Mom Attack:  I get the teen to the ball field when he discovers he has forgotten his cleats and why don’t I just go home and get them.  After the morning I had I wasn’t sure I wanted to so I dragged my feet by going to the ATM, getting a Diet Coke, making my bed, finishing my getting ready process, and getting the queen ready to leave.  I still managed to get them there in time for the game but I allowed him to sweat it out a bit.  He might not be so lucky next time.

Peace Treaty:  By the time the game was over most was forgotten.  The teen apologized for being a jerk (his word choice not mine), he’s starting to realize it is a waste of words to argue with the queen and that I’m not very nice when I get interrupted twice while getting ready in the morning.  He made my heart happy when he apologized but he did let me know his team mates thought it was kind of mean for me to throw away perfectly good waffles.

Summer vacation starts when?

 

 

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