Friday, August 6, 2010

So, if you're needing to feel like your family life is really not THAT BAD...

 Let's just call this post "Family Night at the Sombars Gone Seriously Awry."  Seriously.

Allow me to back up for a sec. Last week, in our continued effort to be the "good parents", we polled the kids for their ideas for the final four weeks of summer vacation (partly because the first 6 weeks have been less than stellar).  We allowed each of our children two requests (secretly hoping, of course, that they would not include anything so far off the current budget that mommy would sink into a deep depression just thinking about it).  Liam, our nine year old, who is an angel of a son, was first to pipe up "I want a family game night where all we do  is play board games, and I want to see "The Last Airbender."  Really- you gotta love Liam.  Low expectations are such beautiful things.

So here we are, all piling in the dining room (the six of us plus Granny), ready to show the world what a functional group we are.  (Mind you, I have yet to shower, and its dinner time....and I've got this enormous mirror  directly across from me, reflecting all of the sweat and grime of the previous twelve hours....whose decorating genius was that? ) And, then I look down, and to my horror,  see that my misguided family has chosen the worst game known to man (or woman) to begin our evening...RISK.  Friends, there exists no game,  in the Sombar repertoire of games, that is more boring.  It is e-x-c-r-u-c-i-a-t-i-n-g.   Painful, even. But the nerds that I live with are so riddled with joy, just thinking of going to battle with one another, equipped with their armies of rainbow cubes, that I resign myself to being "fun mommy" and begin to play along, with a particle of civility.  But then the ADHD side of me begins to fidget, and grumble, and make "you are so dead" faces at my betrothed.  Two hours later, TWO HOURS, PEOPLE,  and I'm finally out (hurray), and I get to put my three year old to bed as my reward. ( My three year-old who can no longer tolerate the feet in his footie pajamas, so I  have to cut them out with the only scissors I can find- the dull, round preschool "so Johnny doesn't mame himself or his siblings" scissors, which couldn't effectively stab a piece of cheese, much less manage their way through fleece and hard-core-sweat-shop-stitching.  As a bonus, I am then  forced to read "My First French Dictionary" for his bed-time story.... \

I could not wait for #2. 

Fast-forward an hour and a half and  the Sombars  have lost it completely- Granny is challenging everyone's ability to count spaces correctly- in her very passive-aggressive-competitive but loving grandmotherly way,  Lily is hormonal and knitting with pencils in between moves (this is totally true)- throwing eye daggers at anyone who dares to remind her that she needs to put the yarn down and move already or charge rent or, God forbid, be cordial and stop with the intermittent tears.  Tom, my now tired and so-over-the-good-father-routine husband, is bitter and has begun to yell at his offspring for being too slow (to which I remind him that perhaps he should have left his nerd love of geographical war games, that take fifteen years to complete, for another evening).   Ben, who is really a wonderful child, in his sleep,  is deliberately missing the spaces where he might owe money (in other words, CHEATING) then, out of the blue, after insisting he is NOT tired, begins crying hysterically that we won't shave his head and give him a mohawk-tonight.  Liam, the aforementioned dream boy, has his head inside of his shirt- humming loudly and making fart noises, and I'm coming to terms with the sickness of "good parenting"....

though it is kind of funny, in a mommy needs a vacation kind of way.


Deidre said...

I hate when our well-intentioned family game time goes to shit. It's comforting to know that we aren't the only family that this happens to.

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Forty-three year-old, mother and staunch advocate of four young children, passionate warrior of truth and self, finding the soul in each day, sharing my struggles and triumphs as I live them. Mostly I do this for me, so my thoughts don't race as much at night as they used to. But I also give this to those of you who need to know, in any or every way, that you are not alone.

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