turning in my mom card....

this morning i failed as a mom.  i know every mom has been there, so i know this isn't a defect in my mom skills, but i am still feeling the guilt.  i think overall i am damn good mom.  both my kids seem to have goals and passions, some of them i don't care for but they are true to themselves.  they both understand what proper hygiene is even if they don't want to comply.  they both have a healthy sense of humor most of the time at my expense.  they are both kind and respectful of every one except for each other. they both understand the importance of living a healthy active life even though they desire fried food, ice cream, candy and movie marathons.  really, i couldn't ask for better kids, but i'm telling you sometimes those angels trade in their halos for horns and forked spears and suck the very soul out of me.

how is it that kids can be the most selfish creatures walking on this planet?  i know kids are, by design, dependent on their grown ups to provide, instruct, and lead them; but there is a fine line between being a loving helpful mom and a glorified slave to your children.  in a fifteen minute span, this morning, i was the lucky recipient of at least nine demands disguised as requests:

mom, will you brush my hair?

mom, will you make me waffles for breakfast?

mom, will you get the knots out of my laces (as the shoes are thrown at me)?

mom, can i get my haircut after school?

mom, can you sign my reading log?

mom, will you rewrap my wrist bandage?

mom, can you find my under armor?

mom, can you pack me a lunch?

mom, you forgot insert anything that doesn't benefit mom!

mom?

Mom?!

MOM?!?!?!

i try really hard to answer these demands pleasantly.  you know trying to model good tone and behavior for my angels, but i admit as the demands persist my tone changes to exasperation.  the "yeses" and "whats" from the first demand change to an elevated, "WHAT? what could you possibly want that demands my immediate attention?" by the last demand. 

it's not that i don't enjoy assisting my angels when they truly need mom, because i do. but when i'm just as busy as they are getting ready in the morning, this isn't the time to make frivolous demands. what's a frivolous demand you ask?  mom, will you brush my hair? i'm standing in my robe, my hair is quickly drying into a medusa-esque style and my twelve year old wants me to brush her hair.  that is ridiculous, brush your own darn hair and while you're at it can you brush mine because i just don't feel like raising my arm above my head?  i'm guessing she would look at me like i was an alien from a foreign planet.

or this mom, can you find my under armor? again, i'm in my robe, with my hair quickly drying into a medusa-esque style and my ten year old wants me to find their clothes? this is also ridiculous, i don't wear my son's clothes, i don't undress my son when he wants to change, so no i can't help you find the clothes you wore, took off, and probably stashed somewhere in your room other than your laundry basket.  maybe if you took two seconds to put your clothes in the laundry basket so i could wash them and then put your clothes away you could actually find them, but since we are making ridiculous demands hey son, can you find my pink bra?  i have like 10 other bras but i like that one the best and i haven't been able to find it.  i'm pretty sure he would decline my request.   

so, basically i lost my mind this morning.  i just couldn't hack the constant barrage of demands, on top of the messy house that i know i will have to ask for help to put back in order, on top of my own personal things that i still needed to get to like get dressed, attend to my hair and make my own lunch, all to get out of the door on time to pick up my carpool kids.  a flurry of words, some not kid appropriate, flew out of my mouth at rapid speed with one basic message:

i am ONE person!

handle some of your own stuff!

hopefully tomorrow will go better.