"You butt"

My darling, lovely, wonderful, horribly hormonal preteen said this to me this morning. Why did she call me a butt? Because I fed her breakfast. Apparently, the $150 that I spent last night at the grocery store, which I went to after a rigorous workout and really just wanted to come home, was unwarranted, because I got the wrong yogurt. You see, the yogurt was on sale, $2.50/container, but they only had peach and strawberry available. We're on a tight budget right now, I've got my sights on consumer debt free by the end of January 2020, so a sale is a great thing! I bought 6 containers (We used 2 at this morning's breakfast alone).

The yogurt

Are any of you parents out there tired of the complete and utter lack of love and respect? I understand, children are selfish little things. They're designed that way, but I can't help but think that there should be some kind of recognition of "hey, my mom fed me this morning. That's awesome!" Nope, "You Butt" was what I got, because the yogurt was peach.

How many times have I lovingly packed a lunch, gotten up early to make sure it was both nutritious, filling and delicious, only to get "You put a piece of lettuce in my wrap, so I threw it out", or "I like red grapes, not purple! Why can't you remember anything!?!" How many times have I gotten them all packed up and in the car, driven them to a fun, new playground, for them to whine that they wanted to go swimming, so lets just go home. Or been told that they got the same chore three days in a row, and that's not fair, even though I've been standing at the sink for the last two hours (again) because the dishwashers broken and I'm washing the dishes of 12 people from the entire day?

Some days she still loves me

I know, I know, it's what we've signed on for as parents. This is just how this part of life goes, and in a few years (ok, more than a few), they will grow to appreciate all my efforts, but man, this part is hard! If Brian called me a butt because of the yogurt, you can bet I'd be pointing out that he can go get his own darn yogurt, and then go off to bed with a cookie and a good book, but we can't do that with our kids. My natural instinct was offence, because yeah, it stung, and I had to work real hard to reel that back in (remember, no more guilting people), so I told her that this is what we had, and she could eat it, or not. She grumbled off and grabbed the dark chocolate granola that I got as a special treat for me, topped off her mug of offensive peach yogurt and plopped herself (a little too hard, if you ask me) down at a chair at the dining room table.

And some days we have so much fun

They've all gone off to school now, and here I sit, wondering to myself when it will all be worth it. I love my kids, don't get me wrong, but she's 11 and not even into the teenage years, and I have three more that haven't even hit the grouchy ages yet. I'm afraid of watching my sweet little girl, who used to cry at even the thought of growing up and leaving home (I'm talking real, giant tears when we talked about how she'd grow up and move out some day), turn into this sullen, seemingly always angry teenager who wants nothing more than to hide in her room all day.

Where did this baby go? I know, we all say it, but looking at these pictures this morning is hitting me right in the feels. Grandfather time, slow down a bit.

Preschool graduation. The little on the far right? I swear, she looks about 21 now

I am trying to be patient with her. I was a horrible teenager, I can't even begin to wonder how my mother didn't have strokes weekly while I went through the dregs of boys and friendships and peer pressure, all while facing a diagnosis of a terrible disease that has affected her whole life since I was 14 years old. I know that I will come out of this on the other side and have wonderful stories to tell of my hormone ridden monsters, but riding out this wave of exhaustion and un-appreciation is certainly taking its toll on my psyche.

All this to say; parenting is hard. Brian and I are actively working on our parenting (and I'll share all of that in another post, because man, it's been an emotional time around here since we realized that we are not being the best we can for our kids), but no matter our efforts, kids will be kids, and we will have moments of frustration and utter disbelief.

The one activity no one complained about. Take your kids camping, the memories will never disappoint

Find yourself some friends who are also deep in the trenches of parenting. Call them when you can't handle it yourself anymore, and find the time to go out and recharge, preferably before you get to that point of no return where you're binge eating chocolate bars and crying in the bathroom, while your kids sit and watch paw patrol on repeat, blissfully unaware.