Many Moods

It's my house after all.

Squeaker left the house cheerful and called me from school cheerful. Then we picked her up from an after school math class and Lucky was sitting in the front seat and I didn't make her move to the back so Squeaker could have the front. She got in glaring and snarling and then slammed both feet into the back of Lucky's seat. When I told her to put her feet down she bellowed about how it's not fair and Lucky isn't even old enough to sit in front (she is) and finally shut up when I told her she could sit in the back from now on if she continues to act like that.

She was cheerful by the time we got to the house and invited Lucky to jump on the trampoline with her and then they went for a run.

When she got back the eye rolling began when I told her to get her book to do reading but first change out of her school P.E. shorts. When one of the other kids mentioned to me that she was kind of stinky I remembered that she was supposed to take a shower directly after a run so went to remind her to do that.

That didn't go over too big and the stomping, slamming, fit-pitching began. I guess I confused her with too many different requests. So I outlined it for her: 1. Take a shower. 2. Clean up your room. 3. Get your book and read. 4. Stay in your room until I call you to help in the kitchen.

She decided she did not have the kitchen chore that day (she did) and said over and over "I'm not going to do something that's not my chore." I walked away to the tune of two more door slams (bedroom and bathroom).

She came down later so I called her over to set the table. Cabinet door slam. Plates on the table slam. So I told her forget it, just go on back up stairs until I call you for dinner. That's when the "Oh MY GAWWWWWWWD!" began and my favorite response when I tell her not to talk like that to me, "I just did." Sweet. Go. Up. Stairs. Now.

She made sure to call be a nasty name on her way out of the room so I called her back to tell her again not to talk to me like that which brought my second favorite response, "Whatever."

Later while I was making dinner she brought me a tiny scrap of paper torn from her report card so she could give me my grade as a parent: F

I actually think I've pulled it up a bit since last time she graded me. Yea me.

She left the room screaming about how I'm so busy ruining her life that she can't tell me the truth about her birth mom.

By dinner, she was cheerful again and asked if she could talk to me about her mom after dinner.

When she told me what was going on with her birth mom and then we prayed about the situtation, she cried on me and hugged me.

She then went cheerfully off to bed even after I told her she needed to uninvite her friend this weekend since any week in which she calls me a b***ch does not end in her having a friend spend the night.

So many moods, so little time.


P.S. And a big ol' thanks to Shorty for stepping in to set the table.