Leave Me Here To Die: MONDAYS

Yesterday was a Monday.

On Mondays, I watch three rowdy boys ages 4, 8, and 10 while their parents work late hours, go on Lowes dates, and attend the occasional gala.

"How'd it go today?" Their mom asked me at the end of the night as she kicked off her heels and started writing my check.

Well. Here's what I did NOT tell her...

*swirly windchime scene change dooodly doooodly whoooosh whooshh*

"We're going on an errand!" I told the kids gleefully as they came in the door and dumped their backpacks and lunchboxes everywhere. The two older boys groaned and moaned but soon enough we were in the car on the way to TJ Maxx to return my ballet flats. The 4-year-old asked me, "Why do you not want them shoes?" and I told him it was because they were too sparkly for my style. He said, with a furrowed brow, "You have a style?"

This was the high point of the day.

After my shoes were returned, I told the boys we could go in a "fun" store in the mall, which apparently was "SEARS! I LOVE SEARS!" "Yeah, let's go in Sears!" It was unanimous.

"Okay, here are my rules before we go in!" I tried to be motivating. "No touching. No screaming. No climbing on tractors. And no running! If you don't listen, we are NOT getting Icees later."

Within seconds, I kid you not, seconds - all four of my rules had been broken. 4-year-old was running, 8-year-old was climbing on a tractor, 10-year-old was dragging toolboxes off high shelves while screaming. And of course, there was Miss Sarah, quietly threatening: "Stop it! Stop. It. STOPPIT!"

A smug Sears employee came over. "Can I heeelllppppp youuu?"

"That's it. WE'RE LEAVING!" I hissed at the boys as I herded them back out of the store.

So the mall was a dud. That's okay! The kids are just tired. They'll settle down in the car. 

"WINDOWS DOWN! WINDOWS DOWN!" All three chanted as I buckled the 4-year-old.

"Boys who don't behave in the mall don't get their windows down," I preached, getting in the driver's seat and promptly activating the child-lock on the windows.

Slowly, the level of chaos in the back of the car escalated. Fart Noises. Arguing. Saliva. I didn't even want to know. THEN, 4-year-old got his hair pulled by 10-year-old and let out a blood-curdling shriek that nearly caused us to swerve off the road, and Miss Sarah snapped.

"BOYS! I SWEAR TO - I - WE - We are NOT getting Icees on the way home now like I said we would!!"

Silence in the back seat. Then: "Icccceees. Iccceees. ICEES! IIIICCCEEESSS!" The dreaded chant-till-we-get-what-we-want had begun.

"NO ONE GETS ICEES!" Miss Sarah yelled. "NO ONE!"

Silence in the backseat.

"If. You all. Keep your mouths. SHUT. Maaaaybe. We will get. Icees." Miss Sarah wished for a brown bag to breathe into.

Silence persisted, which was - good, right? I turned the radio on and enjoyed the calm, which lasted LESS than the duration of Justin Beiber's "Sorry".

Suddenly a strong, strong wave of chemicals hit me in the face. I spun around to face the backseat and saw 8-year-old holding down the sprayer on a can of sunscreen he'd found on the floor in the back of the car. Apparently all three kids were mesmerized by the white mist of sunscreen slowly filling the air. "ARE YOU STUPID?!" I barked. "WE'RE GONNA DIE!" I rolled all the windows down in a frenzy.

"YEAAAAAH! WINDOWS!" All three screamed victoriously. "WE GOT WINDOWS DOWN!"

Kids: 1
Miss Sarah: -5

Finally, we were home, Icees sweating in smug little hands.

"Let's go on a walk!" Miss Sarah suggested haphazardly as the kids all started raiding the living room looking for their electronics.

"Ughhhhh," 10-year-old whined. "You just want to get your 10,000 steps in!" He was right.

4-year-old pedaled ahead of us on his tricycle, 8-year-old had his scooter, and 10-year-old had picked the skateboard. I was pulling 10-year-old by the hand while he crouched on his vehicle of choice, and when 8-year-old looked behind him and saw this personalized display of attention, he decided to throw a fit. "THAT'S MY SKATEBOARD!" He suddenly announced (fifteen minutes INTO our walk). "Get offffff it!"

When 10-year-old refused, 8-year-old kicked me (naturally).

"HEY!" I jumped. "Don't touch me, ya meanie!"

8-year-old announced, "I'm not moving from this spot until I get my skateboard!"

I tried to reason with him, saying he could have his turn on the NEXT loop around the neighborhood, and he just needed to wait his turn. BUT NO. There was no logical conclusion other than "I WANNIT! GIMME!"

"Fine, you don't wanna move?" I was peeved. "We'll stand here all night!" And the 3 of us stood there in the middle of the road while 4-year-old pedaled around us in circles.

After about 3 minutes (which felt looooooong) 8-year-old burst into tears, stomped over to the grass, and threw himself onto the ground. "LEAVE ME HERE TO DIEEEE!" He bellowed. "IF I CAN'T HAVE MY SKATEBOARD, what's the... point..." His screams faded into sobs.

Wow. Whatever was in those icees has turned my children into monsters, I thought.

But really, it's always this way. Crazy. Frustrating. Maddening. But yet, every Monday, I still find myself looking forward to it. Because I'll never, ever, EVER be bored on a Monday.