I think I might be back from my self imposed exile from the blogosphere. Why, you might ask? Because I'm a glutton for punishment.
Anyway, here goes nothing.
Recently, we had a stretch of several beautiful days. On the first of said beautiful days, I spent the entire day playing outside with the kids, which, I'm learning, is the worst thing you can do. Apparently, when it's nice outside, especially after a long winter, the best thing you should do for your kids is to lock them in the house and deny them that taste of glorious freedom. If you do what I did, you're only going to create a situation that will undoubtedly end badly for either you or your children.
Case in point:
After hours and hours of basking in the sun, riding bikes and playing teacher, it was time to go inside because Mommy had wash to fold. Everyone went inside, still smiling. We had a snack and I turned on the TV so the kids would leave me alone for 20 minutes so I could fold one single load of wash.
This was not to be.
Within the first 5 minutes, the Little Monsters broke out of the house, and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THEY LEFT THE HOUSE. Yes, I locked the front door and went upstairs and they bolted. I found out they were outside when the biggest Monster came to ask me if she could cross the street to go to the park.
Bad Mommy, thinking you could leave Monsters alone to their own devices.
After a stern talking to I, once again, try and fold some clothes. This is when the Monster 1 smacks Monster 2 right across the face. This is a cardinal sin and is is an automatic trip to the bedroom.
After 3 minutes, I go upstairs to have a chat about hitting, when these words come out of the 3 year old's mouth,
"You're not awesome anymore. I hate you."
Out of the mouths of babes …
This did not upset me as much as I thought the first time one of my kids said they hated me would. In fact, it made me laugh a little. She said I wasn't awesome anymore? This would imply that at some point I actually was AWESOME, and, frankly, THAT is pretty cool.
This gave her another time out, during which she screamed that she did, in fact, love me.
Not that I ever doubted it.