When Ross is away, I wouldn't say things get totally lax, but maybe a little looser than they would if I had back-up. That's why the kids have spent the last two days throwing dirt clods at each other as a form of entertainment. I only stop it when they start picking up rocks, logs, or there are actual tears. I've only had to intervene once, so I feel like it's a pretty good way for them to work some things out. I am going to have to wash sheets and children tomorrow, however, so there is a downside.
I kind of love this season. So do the boys. They always look forward to the change in seasons - that is from fire season to burn season, and they will likely smell like wood smoke for the next six months. With Ross gone, I've put them both in charge of the fire in the woodstove. It's obvious Fischer takes after his dad. The house was so hot the first day he got the fire going, I had to open all the windows. We let the house cool off for two days before I could even think about having them build another one.
The girls definitely miss their dad when he is away. Me too...because disciplining them is a two person job. Carter. Carter makes her own rules. Today, she got in trouble for unbuckling her seatbelt while I was driving. She gave me an exasperated, "But Mom," and some excuse I didn't understand. I made it abundantly clear that it wasn't safe or allowed. Despite that, she unbuckled again when we had to go somewhere a couple of hours later. I told her since she had already been warned she would have to have a swat when we got to our destination. Once we arrived, I helped her out of her car seat and explained again, "This is a swat for unbuckling and not being safe."
To which she replied matter-of-factly, "I like big swats."
Swat administered.
She turned, looked at me and very sincerely said, "Thanks. Thanks, Mom."
So, that seemed to be a success...very effective.
It's a rollercoaster with this circus. One minute they have me mad and the next I'm trying not to laugh. I'm emotionally confused. Sawyer came in filthy the other day, par for the course, but I was admonishing him for not at least brushing off before coming in the house.
"Buddy! You have pine needles in your hair!"
He made a swipe at his head, and grabbed at some of the debris. After briefly looking at it, he looked back at me like I'd lost my mind. "These aren't pine needles, Mom. They're fir. Pine needles are much longer."
Thanks, Baby Einstein. Can you please just take them out of my house?
Is it all really worth the effort? Sometimes I wonder. My future sons and daughters-in-law, their future roommates, whatever the case may be, they better appreciate the work I'm putting in here on the front end. Hopefully, by the time I have them trained up they will change their underwear on the daily, not drop their trash wherever they're standing, and have a solid understanding of inside voices. I'd even go for two out of three.
Pray for me.
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