Apocalypse Now

I love the mornings with my babes.  Someone is usually up before sunrise.  My initial thought is:

“Get your {butt} back to bed!”

But, then I hear a little voice that says:

“Can I snuggle you?”

And I just melt.

Our mornings are spent nuzzled upon a pyramid of pillows and blankies.  Each sibling cuddles the next.  Cartoons are usually involved.  They are barely awake; not surprising at such an unreasonable hour, but they are precious and it is truly my favorite part of the day.  I try to soak it all in because once the light peeks through the living room curtain someone always remarks:

“Look, momma!  The sun is up!  Guys, it’s morning time!” 

And they transform…

…into savages.

Their waking hours are {mostly} spent claiming another’s treasures as their own and trying to out maneuver one another.  My husband and I spend our time perfecting the delicate art of balancing threats v. bribes in order to maintain some sense of law and order.  Cookies may or may not be used for leverage.  And the tablet may or may not be revoked for a finite amount of time.  I have considered taking it away permanently, but I have to give it back so that I can take it away again, obviously.  It is an effective means of behavior modification.  Salt on an ever gaping wound.  I am now ready for my “Parent of the Year” award.

I do not enjoy the conflict, but I know what to expect and how our day will {likely} progress.  My ‘life lesson’ speeches and discipline tactics all lined up and ready to implement.

I am a type A personality, so when things do not go according to plan I become uncomfortable.

For example:

On Sunday, my oldest son put his baby sister in her high chair.  He proceeded to give her lunch and provide all his siblings with cups of water.


Then, he took his baby sister for a drive in the Batman power wheels car; his arm lovingly holding her in and protecting her.  The rest followed his lead and did the same.  #5 had the time of her life; giggles for days.

Still swooning here.

Today, my oldest daughter got herself dressed for school without being asked.  Not only that, but she settled on the first pair of shoes she tried on this morning without screaming:

“They are too loose!” or

“They don’t feel right with my socks!”.

She is the Goldilocks of footwear; I usually don’t have her “just right” gear available.  I am not sure it even exists.  {She is frighteningly similar to her momma}.

Then, something truly disturbing happened.

My middle child {randomly} uttered these phrases today:

“Momma, I will never run away from you in the store.  And, momma, one more thing.  I will stay in my bed when it is bedtime.  And, momma, one more thing.  I will clean my room forever and ever if you say so.”

My heart about to burst, he proceeded to pick up his room.

I am somewhere between awe and panic.

I have been debating my options.

The preceding decade has consisted of us teaching them value in listening, sharing and camaraderie.  Perhaps it has not fallen on deaf ears and we are at a turning point in parenting where we are going to be reaping what we have so desperately sowed.

Or the much more plausible explanation:

Hell is now frozen and the apocalypse is upon us.  You have been warned.  Stock your pantries and seek shelter immediately.

In case you are wondering, I will be in my basement.


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