Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Fists and Twists

Yesterday my oldest two got in a fist fight. Like, literally.
There we were, being classy and stuff at the thrift store and boom, I hear yelling, I hear scuffling. I turn around. And there they were in all their angelic glory. Caity's hands around her brother's throat while she kicked, Johnny swinging a fist while pulling Caity's hair. Everyone turned and watched and their eyes were all wide like "Whoa what got into them, what a mother they must have..." And I suppressed what I wanted to do...and politely asked them to stop fighting and said "let's go to the car."  It was pretty humiliating.  More so, it was shocking to me.  What do I even do in a situation like that?  Knock their heads together give em a slug and say "We don't hit people!"  Cause that's what I wanted to do.
I figured that game plan was hypocritical, so I just shoved them in the car, gave them my mom stare and said, "I love you even though I am very disappointed."
To which Johnny replied, "You don't sound disappointed, you sound mad."
"Well, I am mad, you guys know better. You love each other and you aren't doing a very good job at showing it."
Then Caity chimed in, "Well it's hard to be nice to each other when you get mad at us."
For the record, I was pretty darn cheery up until this little escapade. Suddenly their dispute was now my fault.
So I had a few options here.  I don't want you thinking any less of me, so I won't tell you the first two.  I decided to make a funny out the whole situation. I acted goofy-mad and made some funny jokes that are only funny to six year old girls and three year old boys and 100 year old petches (his dog).  And for whatever miraculous reason, it did the trick and they were little angels for the rest of the day.
It was the weirdest thing.
Anyway, here are some pictures of Sunday:

In other news:
Y'all, I twisted my ankle.  Like, bad. 
So here I lay, on my bed, with my leg propped up on all the clean clothes I was determined to sort and put away today, with my ankle wrapped in frozen peas. John asked me if it hurt worse than child labor...well, that was a lose-lose.  If I answered yes then I am not doing child birth justice, if I answered no then my ankle must not hurt that bad....but it is hurting.  I might have cried.

1 comment:

Whitney said...

So sad to hear about your ankle and that your kiddos got in a fight because you were mad... haha that was some pretty quick thinking on her part! I am impressed you didn't beat them, you must have the patience of Job! :)

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