The Sister Mom

One day last week, I was in my bathroom doing what my girls will never let me do in peace.  The girls were in the living room playing... then fighting... then screaming...then crying.  I couldn't really do anything, so I ignored it, which is kinda good sometimes.  It lets them work things out on their own.  As long as they aren't on fire.  Well even then- learn how to operate the fire extinguisher girls!  What?  It's a good lesson!  


Anyway-Georgia was the one screaming and crying, which is not unusual.  She is the drama queen among the drama queens in this family.  If someone gives her a slight tap on the shoulder and she sees it as an assault, she will throw herself into a fit of tearless crying for at least four minutes.  Or until I put The Backyardigans on TV. 


So first I hear a scuffle, Lana's saying something her mad voice, then Georgia crying.  After this I heard Sonya take over the mom role and try to talk to her and calm her down.   Which she did.  One less problem I have to deal with!  The next thing I see is Georgia walk into my room, past my bathroom, and into my closet.  A minute later she walks by the bathroom again, carrying the bucket o'change Andy and I have on our dresser.  I think everyone has one of those.  It's the place you throw all of your loose change.  After a while you count it and roll it and have a nice meal out.  Sometimes, the girls will take it off our dresser and play with the change inside.  I'm not so fond of them doing this, because it makes a mess that I don't feel like dealing with.  Secondly, change tends to be really dirty, so it kinda grosses me out when I see them playing with it then sucking their thumb right after ward.  It's not like "wash hands after playing with loose change" is on the top for their list of things to do.  


So as she's walking by with the change bucket I say,


"Hey! Hey!  Wait Georgia!"


She stopped and looked at me, change bucket in her hands, "What mommy?"


"What are you doing with that?" I asked.


"Sissy gonna give me a qwa-twa (quarter) because Lana hit me," she explained.


"Wait.. what?" I asked.


"Sissy give me a qwa-twa cause Lana hit me," she told me again.


"SOOONNYYYAAA!" I yelled.  Then I instructed Georgia to hand over the change, and told her she didn't get money just because Lana hit her.  Maybe if she wants to be a boxer someday, she can be paid to be hit, but not today and not in our house.  


Sonya came running back to my room. 


"Yes, mommy?" She said.


"You're giving Georgia a quarter because Lana hit her?" I questioned.  


Then she proceeded to tell me that she was giving Georgia a quarter, because she and Lana were fighting and then G started to cry.  Sonya was trying to figure out what happened between the two, and Lana wouldn't tell her.   This usually a sign of guilt when Lana won't speak.  If Georgia is crying and she didn't do it, she is the first to inform you that she didn't.  Otherwise she ignores you.  So Sonya told them that whoever told her the truth would get a quarter.  No need for me to discipline them anymore, I have Sonya!  While I've never paid them to tell me things, I have rewarded them with hugs and praise for telling me the truth when I've asked, even if they did something bad.  Quarters I save for chores.  Sonya just combined the two.  Not a bad idea, but I'd rather she not take over for me.  Well, sometimes I would but then I'd REALLY have a hard time getting anyone to listen and take me seriously.  


She and I had a short conversation then about how, as much as I appreciated her trying to help, she wasn't allowed to give out money, or punishments.  That is my and Daddy's job.  She understood.  For now.  It's not the first time we've had this similar conversation and I know it won't be the last.  She loves being in charge of them, and having some kind of power when I'm not around.  I can't say I don't relate.  After all, I am the oldest of three girls as well.  I remember many times trying to take on my mom's role with my sisters when she wasn't around.  I'm pretty sure I got a similar lecture. 


Ah history!  How you do love to repeat yourself!  Thanks for showing me the other side. Sorry Mom...  And Beth...  And Megan.