Reasons why they didn’t finish dinner…

sonic corn dogMe: “Aaron why didn’t you eat your dinner?”

Aaron: “I don’t eat corn dogs with cracks in them.”

Me: “You owe me $1.49.”

“Corndog crack”, noun

A deformity in the breading that covers the hotdog portion of a corndog. Burns, torn bread, any discolored sections. Must be golden brown to qualify as an acceptable food.

How to raise a teenager…hold on sir…you are only eight!

The last week or so has been interesting. My oldest turned eight years old. He no longer has the adorable infant, toddler, or even preschool character traits. He is growing up into a handsome young man. Awkwardly handsome as his teeth have been falling out left and right…but a good lookin’ kid.

I remember when I would lay next to him and he would play with my hair until he fell asleep. Gone are the days when he wanted to cuddle. He’s not squishy anymore…

Now he has this attitude that is driving me insane. Maybe it’s the long days at school. Second grade has been more of a challenge. Whatever the reason is I feel like his behavior towards me is similar to how a teenager behaves and frankly I am not prepared yet.

Wednesday night after church my boys were both running around like lunatics outside in the parking lot. This is normal for them.  They don’t listen and I ultimately end up dragging one or both to the car. I grab Aaron’s hand with my right hand. I’m struggling with my left to carry my purse, Bible, and an extra hoodie for Aaron (???). I finally extend out the pointer finger on my left hand and bark in Isaiah’s direction…

Me: “Hold my finger!”

Isaiah: “OMG…I don’t need to hold your hand!”

Me: “You don’t ever listen! Hold on to my finger and let’s go! We are leaving!”

Isaiah: “AHHHHH!!!! YOU ARE RUINING MY LIFE!!!!!”

Insert a moment of me seeing red….

Thursday night we are back at the church for choir practice. I had a long night. This was supposed to be my first night trying to ease back in to singing at church again. We had a meeting with our Pastor. Great meeting but I had a lot on my mind afterwards. I ran out to get pizza for the kids and their friends and that was an adventure in itself. It involved poor customer service, four police cars and a woman standing in my way that had apparently been spit on just before I got in the parking lot. I can’t even make this stuff up. Charlotte is crazy. I get back to set the kids up in the fellowship hall and by the time I sat in to listen to the practice I wasn’t able to get much out of it let alone participate.

I didn’t eat yet. I was emotional. I was tired.

Practice is dismissed and the kids are running around crazy again. I’m just so tired. Why can’t they listen?

Finally we get outside…so close to leaving and getting some food. Get in the car! Get in the car! Get in the car!

Insert a moment of me seeing red….

Oh no! I forgot my phone!

I ran back into the church to get it and when I came out my husband was still standing in the parking lot talking. The kids were buckled up in the car. Based upon facial experience he knew it was time. Time to get the Mellix family out of there before I exploded. A friend of ours used to call it “BOOOOMMMM!” He used the same expression for my mother. I guess my freak outs run in the family 🙂

Nathan: “What’s wrong?”

Me: (Grinding my teeth together and giving him the look of death) “Get in the car…”

We pull out of the parking lot and Aaron speaks up from his car seat…

Aaron: “Isaiah said that mama doesn’t love us.”

I stare out the passenger side window in silence. Why? Why would he tell him that?

I’m not ready to raise a teenager. I’m clearly not that great at raising an eight year old. Who does he think he is?

So it’s Friday…I’m getting ready to leave the office and pick up the kids. I am determined to get this eight year old in line while getting him to understand I love him more than words can express. This is why I am “mean”. It’s not my job to be his friend. It’s my job to direct him and teach him how to be a responsible human being.