I hope it was worth it.

In an effort to save money on paper, our school district posts some math homework assignments on the school website and we have to print them out at home.

Last night Number 3 asked me to print one out for him.

At 9 p.m.

Annoyed by the last minute request, I refused.

Normally, I might have caved.

But Number 3 has been having some issues at home in the behavior department.

He also has two jobs that he is responsible for every day: emptying the dishwasher in the morning and taking out the recycling.

And I find myself saying the same things over and over

and over

to him.

Reminding.

It’s exhausting.

And annoying.

Annoying because he knows he’s supposed to do it.

But also annoying because I have obviously, for whatever reason, let things get to the point where I have to nag him repeatedly.

This morning was one of those mornings.

Everyone was a disaster.

There was a lot of crying.

The kids were upset, too 😉 .

I’m pretty sure I set a record in the Serenity Now! department.

At 7 a.m. Number 3 started in with the demands for the math worksheet again.

I told him no.

He slammed a door.

He begged.

He pleaded.

He cried.

He described how his teacher would basically throw him in the stocks and humiliate him in front of the entire class.

“Good,” I told him.

I wanted to yell at him.

Badly.

I didn’t.

The other day, after I told him to give half a grilled cheese sandwich to Number 4 and he looked directly at me,

and then shoved the whole fucking thing in his mouth,

I had to use every ounce of strength I had not to reach across the counter and Heimlich that shit right out of his throat.

But I did keep my non-yelling streak intact,

and all I said was,

“I hope that was worth it.”

Technically, it wasn’t an empty threat.

Although I wasn’t really sure what I meant by that.

Luckily, his behavior this morning opened a door for me.

Between the crying and whining that was already going on from everyone else, and Number 3’s relentless begging for the fucking multiplication worksheet, I had no sympathy.

At all.

I had reached my breaking point

And as he was crying and getting more and more pissed, and threatening not to go to school,

I calmly looked at him and said,

“Remember that grilled cheese?”

He immediately went silent, gulped and raised his eyebrows.

“Remember when I said I hope that was worth it?

This is what I was talking about.

When you don’t do what I want, I don’t do what you want.”

And then I left the kitchen. I went into my room to change and brush my teeth.

When I came out, there wasn’t any crying.

There wasn’t any whining.

In fact, I only heard one thing…

The beautiful sound of Number 3 emptying the dishwasher.

Was it worth it for him?

I’m not sure.

But it definitely was worth it for me.

 

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