As a mother, I am out to make my children's lives as miserable as possible.
Of course I am. Who isn't? And why wouldn't I? It's such fun.
I do try to say yes to my kids when it's feasible. Or even when it isn't sometimes. It's fun to see them be happy about the unexpected opportunity to eat pie for breakfast or watch a movie on a school night.
However, they never seem to remember these unexpected bonuses when I'm ruining their lives in other ways.
Case in point: Last weekend when we were in Utah, the boys and all of Erin's kids set up a restaurant in the playroom. Very cute and creative. Except that they wanted to cook actual food and serve it to us and eat it down there themselves.
There were a few problems with this scenario. First, none of them really know how to cook and they seemed disinclined to have us be present in the kitchen while food was prepared. Second, Erin and her family are only living in this house temporarily--it's actually for sale and has recently been renovated. Renovated as in new carpet, paint, tile, etc. Renovated as in is it really wise for seven kids to be carrying/consuming food on various levels in this house with new paint and carpet?
No, not wise at all.
You would have thought we'd just told the kids we were enslaving them at a work camp in Siberia.
Drama. I felt bad because of all of their hard work making menus and setting up the restaurant, but it just didn't make sense. And it didn't help that the last time we visited and they still lived at the "old" house, the kids did this exact same thing and we did let them make food and bring it downstairs to the "restaurant."
Other ways I have failed my children in the not to distant past: forgetting to wash an item of clothing I said I would wash; saying we would do something and then having to go back on my word; forgetting to give allowances; not sitting down to play cards while I was trying to work; not allowing candy for breakfast.
It goes on.