SOLID COMPLAINT FOLLOWS.
One of the things I find most depressing is that everyone else gets the joy of blissful irresponsibility with my children. In fact, this is one of the things that makes it most difficult to leave them in the care of others. So often when I return to relieve the beloved someone who has given me some time off, I find the babies gathered around a TV or its technological equivalent eating bowls of cheez balls with marshmallow fluff. All this means for me is one less time that I get to be the one who busts out the TV and the cheez balls and the marshmallow fluff. I have to be the one who never gives them anything but carrots and walks around the block and book-reading and hair combing. Thus do they cruelly love it when I leave. NOT FAIR.
9 comments:
EXACTLY!
Oh, yes! I just got back from a few days away, and Grandma and Dad really spoiled the munchkin. Much whining ensued. Grrr....
I used to think the same thing. Now I look at it this way. If the tv, cheeseballs, and marshmallow fluff are still fun things to pull out for those blessed souls who are watching my children, then by golly, I don't mind being the meany. Because you know, those people are going to be more willing to watch the munchkins once again and again and again and again (which means I get to go away again, and again, and again)
written by one who was just away from the munchkins for three days. (I waved, did you see me? ;-D )
My husband keeps telling me that he gets to be the fun parent and I have to be the mean parent.
Wow, you're making me feel better about not getting to leave my kids with anyone in the past two years :D (ok, twice we've left them with a girl from our church for an hour each time, but she read to them and made them clean their room! :D) Maybe tomorrow I'll give them cheeseballs and marshmallow fluff now :D
The best babysitter I ever had was a teenaged girl whose little brother had vexed her plenty growing up. She had long since been cured of any sympathy for cute little boys. I told her that my son had to eat all of his peas and could play till eight and then had to go to bed. Sure enough. She made him eat every pea and put him in bed right at eight.
I will never forget the time John and I came back from a few nights away for an anniversary, and upon our return, as we arrived to pick up our children from their cousins' house, happily expecting our children run up and hug us (because of course they MUST be missing us as much as we missed them), our oldest son John, who must have been about six or seven years old at the time, saw us, dropped his shoulders in dismay and remarked,
"Ohhh. You're back already?"
Especially because marshmallow fluff, as anyone knows, is only good when thickly smeared upon a banana.
and then drizzled with chocolate....
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