Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Bustin' Balls

I never thought of myself as controlling, despite my OCD diagnosis. My issue is obsessing over certain thoughts, not obsessively controlling other people. I always have thought that diagnosis went a little overboard, however, the amount of time I spent thinking about it probably proves it is accurate. It is kind of hard to control people if they don't listen to you.  So I have found creative ways to subliminally implement some sort of order in our household, because frankly, if I didn't do it....I shutter at the thought.
Two years ago I went to Australia for 10 days and when I returned the house was spotless (on the surface), but soon I discovered the cupboard and the fridge were filled with things that STILL wouldn't have expired.  Picture the food pyramid flipped upside down, and that is what the mom-free menu looked like.
So in order to create a liveable environment, I frequently implement scheduling sessions where Don and I sit down and compare schedules. Thanks to icloud, this has made my life a bit easier. As long as we both check it..
This past weekend when I was finished adding everyone's events I discovered that we will not have a free weekday evening until 2017.   Despite my planning, we didn't plan on that. Call me naive, but when we decided to have four babies, we (I) didn't think past the baby stage, followed by college. I seemed to have mentally blocked the formative years.
We had them close in age because I grew up the youngest by 7 years and I thought that sucked.  Hindsight is 20/20 eh?
The last time Parker told me he didn't have anyone to play with I quickly reminded him that I gave birth to not one but THREE additional playmates for him that live in our very home, so stop complaining.
Maybe my parents were right (I hate it when I say that) but they were in regards to spacing their kids. I still don't know if that was intentional, or if I was an "oops" but I choose to think it was the first one.
Now that we have a 9, 7, 5 and 2 year old they all have activities.  And not even serious ones like travel teams, just soccer, speech therapy,karate, football, dog training, piano and swimming.
Sometimes I hear them complaining that they don't want to go to something, usually after I have just paid for it. I don't want them to be quitters, but sometimes I secretly do.  I don't know how many more practices I can sit through before I stab a fork in my leg. Yesterday I had to listen to two women discussing the personalities of their numerous cats. Isn't  it necessary to be a person, to have a personality? It took all I had to not turn around and scream, your cat is witty? Really? Your cat has quick wit?
I don't want to meet new "mom" friends. It sounds harsh, but after working all day, eating a cold dinner in the car and sitting for an hour plus in a sweaty dojo, I am really not in the mood to discuss how many teeth your child has lost.
In order to make all of these things work there must be some sort of control.  As the boys get older I am starting to realize that either I need to loosen the grip on my rope, or someone is going to get strangled. 
Parker came downstairs wearing a button down shirt, shorts, Hunter boots and his hair spiked in a faux hawk.  Clearly this was not the outfit I had laid out for him.  Yes, you read that right. I lay out their clothes every single night, in the order they will put it on. I also lay out their pajamas.  I asked Parker why he was wearing that, and he said it was because "he wanted to".  THE NERVE!!!
Following this Jack took the vitamin off of the spoon I had set for breakfast and threw it in the trash.  This was after I was told by Finegan to please stop saying "night night" because it makes him feel like a baby.  And the icing on the cake was this morning when I discovered a stash of  candy wrappers on my husbands passenger side seat.  It was my breaking point. Maybe I am too controlling to the point that they have to hide things from me.  No grown man should eat THAT amount of candy, but if he chooses to have a cardiac arrest due to a sugar overdose then who am I to stop him? When confronted, he said what seems to be something he says often in a joking/serious way. "Stop busting my balls." What the heck does that mean anyway?  His balls are the last thing I would want to bust.
As trivial as it sounds, it really bothered me. All of those things. Things I have been doing for 9 years.  Things I started doing to show that I love them. Things that I thought were helpful were actually turning harmful.  How is Parker going to figure out that a flannel shirt and rain boots are too warm for summer if he doesn't wear it outside? How will Jack know what its like to get sick and cough up a lung unless he experiences it and sees the importance of taking his vitamins? And how will Fin recognize that my "night night" makes him feel comfort rather than a baby? Ok, I admit, the "night, night" is more for me.
If I want to raise confident boys I need to have confidence in them.
These are trivial decisions but with time will morph into something significant.  Like, what college to go to, whether or not to drink and drive or God forbid choosing a significant other.
Being indecisive leads to feeling miserable.  Unless of course, you are my husband, who was extremely confident in his decision to eat 6 reeses peanut butter cups in one sitting, and ended up being miserable all on his own.

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