I'm the BossCan someone please tell me - seriously, I beg you, please tell me - why my kids don't seem to think that I'm the boss?
Because I am. I am the boss. The BOSS, I say.
When we first moved to Texas from California, I was so impressed by the obedient little preschoolers in Gracie's play group. When their mamas told them what to do, the little kids replied, "Yes, ma'am" and then did it.
Gracie doesn't say "Yes, ma'am." She generally doesn't say anything, preferring to cross her arms over her chest and glare at me when I ask her to do something she doesn't want to do. Sometimes, she'll say something along the lines of "But I don't want to," but she surely never says "Yes, ma'am."
fun (ie not fun at all) day filled with me shouting things such as, "Gracie, I'm not going to say it again - If you don't put your toys in the toy box, I'm THROWING THEM ALL AWAY!" and also, "Annelie, if you say 'duh' one more time when I talk to you, you are GOING STRAIGHT TO BED!"
Now just in case you are wondering if I'm one of those train-wreck sort of parents often found on shows such as The Super Nanny... I'm not. Really, I'm not. I know perfectly well how to handle my kids... they just seem to have other ideas about it today.
"Cleaning my room is so boring, Mom," Gracie cheerfully informed me about 20 minutes ago, when she came out of her (still messy) room dressed up in a sparkly green ballet costume and dressy plastic hot-pink high heels. And to her, that was the perfect reason why she shouldn't have to clean her room.
I'm tired. I'm weary. It seriously doesn't help that Annelie said, "Because I said so, duh" about 20 times this morning (earning herself a 3 minute time-out each time) and Gracie has already lost allowance-earning privileges for the day.
It is only the early afternoon and I'm ready to skip town on the hunt for the best mind-numbing cocktail in Texas. And by golly, Gracie's room better be spotless when I get back.