Thursday, April 5, 2012

Revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

The only thing that is keeping me going this morning is my plan for the future. I can't punish my kids for waking up in the 5's this morning or for staying awake until the 10's last night. I can't get mad at them for demanding no less than 4 times that I get them things while I'm trying to have my first coffee of the day. I can't begrudge them wiping their butts while they complain or listening to their dramatic, tortured cries as I simply put a shirt over their heads. And so on. There is no recourse. At this time. But as they cry, whine, shout, demand and hit I am formulating a plan.

As exhaustion sinks in, I am scheming.

With every kick to the face and every 'I hate you', I am strategizing.

 I refuse to be caught with my pants down, like I was with the toddler/preschool years. As my children grow into teens, I will be ready for sweet, sweet revenge. The moment they start sleeping in and I no longer can (after years of sleep deprivation have trained my body not to even hope for deep sleep again), I will be there, at the foot of their beds with a bullhorn. Or, when I drop them off at school, after years of of having to struggle to get them out the door and listening to them yell for the whole drive, I will be there, shouting out my window to them in their school yard that they forgot their heavy flow tampons. When they are settled in on the sofa, calmly watching their favorite show, laughing and enjoying themselves, I will be there, turning the television off and running away with the remote. If revenge is a dish best served cold, I will be there in a decade with a sadistic smile on my face saying; 'let's eat, bitches'.


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