Screen Shot 2015-04-06 at 5.23.24 PM

Why do the kids’ backpacks feel like they’re hauling away a dead body in there?  And why does Bear act like I’m the worst mother ever because I don’t understaaaannnd when I say she needs to remove some of the weight?  I’m an avid reader, but even I recognize that nobody needs four books at a time. Sheesh, girl, lighten that load!

Dinner is always a big “why.”  Based on past experience I could throw some rice with soy sauce or pasta with butter and parmesan on the table and voila!  Done!!  It takes a phenomenal force of will to choose to cook dinner when there’s a good chance 50% of the diners present will turn their noses up at it.  Because there’s nothing I like more than searching for a reasonably tasty recipe, shopping for the ingredients, planning the dinner into our schedule, then spending an hour making food that may well sit and grow cold on one or both of the youngsters’ plates.  (Adding salt to the wound?  Spending another 45 minutes cleaning up the kitchen after dinner is over.  Sweet Jesus, save me now.)

Why do half of the dirty clothes arrive inside-out at the laundry room?  Is it impossible to take a shirt or pants off without doing this?  Or to take five seconds to pull the sleeves or pant legs back through before putting them in the wash pile?  I went on strike a few months ago and announced that clothes would be returned (washed, dried, and folded) in the same state in which they’re received.  It took a bit of time for everyone to get used to it (especially BrightSide, who didn’t seem to think this edict was going to apply to his clothes as well), but I think the trade-off in my lowered blood pressure is worth it.

And not to fixate on the laundry, but what exactly is so difficult about sorting clothes into the proper laundry bins?  The kids have recently taken on this chore on Sundays, carrying their baskets to the laundry room and sorting their clothes for the wash.  At first I simply explained the system: darks, lights, whites.  When that didn’t work I added signs: “darks,” “lights,” “whites.”  When THAT didn’t work I added an extraordinary level of detail to each sign.

I had to revise the WHITE sign to add that the socks and underwear should be “white!” in that bin.  Yeah, that would be because the kids were putting all socks and underwear in there since that’s where the sign said they went.  Good Lord, my heart weeps for these children and their future laundry years.

And perhaps the #1 aneurism inducing comment, frequently heard about 10 minutes after leaving the house, often when headed on a grocery shopping trip that will take 60+ minutes to complete:  “I probably should have gone to the bathroom before we left.”  Pardon my french, but are you shitting me?!  You guys are eight and ten years old!  Exactly how many years of my life will be whittled away asking “did you go to the bathroom”???  It’s called personal hygiene for a reason, people.  Get on board.

These are my whys for today…