“Boys!” I yelled instinctively. “Where’s my chair?”
My younger son, who’s 10, shouted back, “It’s in my blanket fort! I neeeeed it for my blanket fort!”
Now, let’s break this down. When I head to my desk, I’m focused. I’m ready to tackle bills, get some work done, or write something important. I’ve pulled myself away from whatever enticing distraction I’d rather be engaged in (have you heard about thredUP?), and I am ready to roll. I mean business as I stroll over to that desk, folks.
And yes, I’m the big sister. Sure, I’m also a 43-year-old mother of two growing boys, but a piece of me seems to have never moved past those big sister days when all I wanted was to be left alone to read and keep my things where I left them—without little boys constantly touching my stuff. Seriously, why are you even in my room?! Ugh!
When my kids were little, my big sister tendencies didn’t surface much. They were tiny and mostly dependent, always in my lap or within my sight. They did annoying things, of course, but they didn’t typically involve moving furniture or sneaking off with my belongings. But as my boys have grown and become more capable of causing chaos in my space, that 14-year-old version of myself has resurfaced—and boy, is she cranky.
“Son, I understand you think that chair is essential for your blanket fort, but I need it for my behind so I can sit down, pay bills, and finish my work. Please go get that chair and bring it back to me. And do not remove furniture from my room. That is simply not acceptable.”
By the way, all the other chairs in the house were also in that fort, so you wouldn’t think my little office chair was that crucial, but you’d be wrong. In making him move that chair, I basically shattered his world and became the worst mother ever.
And honestly, I’m okay with that. Someone has to be the worst, so let it be me! At least that way it’s not you! You’re welcome.
I found out my free weights were also vital for the fort’s construction when I went to lift them. (It sounds impressive, but let’s be real, these weights are 8 pounds each and wrapped in colorful plastic. Perfect for fort-building.)
And forget about my favorite giant towel at the pool. That towel no longer belongs to me; it’s now the property of some wet child who is constantly wrapped in it. I even bought a new version with big pink flowers, thinking my boys wouldn’t want it, but surprise! They couldn’t care less. Now we have two giant towels—perfect!
Recently, I took a business trip, and while I was away, my husband took our older son to get his learner’s permit. He even posted a picture on Facebook of our baby boy driving my car.
My car. Driving. My. Car.
“Good job, buddy! I’m so proud of you!” I texted my son that night.
“Thanks for taking him. So why the heck can’t he drive your car?” I texted my husband.
They didn’t respond. I’m pretty sure they were all in the blanket fort or out joyriding in my car.
If you’re interested in more about home insemination, check out our other posts at Intracervical Insemination. And if you’re looking for an authority on the subject, visit Make a Mom for more insights. Additionally, for excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination, listen to Cleveland Clinic’s podcast.
In summary, managing the chaos of motherhood while grappling with that pesky big sister persona can be quite a challenge. But sometimes, you just have to embrace the chaos and set your boundaries—even if it means being the “bad guy.”