Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Why 'the groan' sends me up the wall.

Oh, the groan.

You know the one?  When you ask a child to eat dinner?  Put their bowl in the dishwasher? Put dirty clothes in the wash?

It's sort of like this: Ohhhhhhmuuuum.  It's hard to replicate the terrible unfairness of it all they manage to convey by the groan, in writing on this blog.

I will assume that many of you have already heard it.

I'm not asking them to cook the dinner, or put on the dishwasher (although I do expect it to be emptied for me), or do the washing.

I don't think I ask for much at all, just a little RESPECT!

Sometimes I ask Josh to stop bouncing all over the couch playing shooting games.  Just because I'm sick of replacing throw rugs and cushions five times a day.

And what do I get, for this reasonable request?  The groan.

Sometimes even an eye roll.  It drives me bonkers.

As we go through our morning routine, I am met with groans at every step.  I think the operative word here is 'routine'.

For your convenience I have found a definition of routine on

"commonplace tasks, chores, or duties as must be done regularly or at specified intervals; typical or everyday activity"

Typical or everyday.  Must be done regularly.  Yet every day it's like we've never done it.  Every week there is total surprise that it's library day, or news day.  Issy is gobsmacked that she must be fully dressed, with lunch in bag, hair done, teeth cleaned and shoes on before she is allowed near the barbie dolls.  

So she groans at every step.  Each painfully familiar step.  

On days we have to be at school at 7:45 things run better for some reason.  I think because there is less faffing time open to us.  If we don't have to be at school until 9, we can expand to fit the time available.   We could represent Australia in this regard. 

Tonight I snapped.  After an afternoon of passive aggressive snide remarking from the 10 year old, she was banished to her room until she could show some respect for me and the process that keeps her fed, clothed and relatively organised in her amazing, full and privileged life. 

She is chastened, for now.  I don't expect it to last.  I know she needs to test me, work out her boundaries, even disrespect me occasionally.  To some extent, it's up to me to tune into her new 'normal' as she grows and changes and change my reactions. 

But damn, it's hard sometimes.  Today especially.   

Image courtesy of PinkBlue /