Family Game Night (Otherwise Known as Hell on Earth)

Are anyone else’s attempts at “Family Game Night” as fun as ours?! And by fun, I mean DISASTROUS.

Don’t get me wrong – I throw it out there all the time to make us look good. (There’s so little we can brag about as it is). I just leave out a few key details. I find that if you keep things really vague and avoid eye contact you can get away with it … sometimes.

Me (feeling smug, but nervous … I could be found out at any moment!): “Yeah – we had a Family Game night Friday.”

Friend who doesn’t know me very well (obviously): “Wow – that is so great! You guys are so good. You’re like the perfect little family.”

Me: (blushing) “Well, yes. We like to take time as a family and really bond.”

Mmmm HMMMM. Yep. That’s us. Perfect.

Now, the truth …

Me: “Let’s have a family game night!!”

Kids: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”

Me: *sigh* “What if I include candy?”

Kids: “Ok. But it better be the good shit” – (just kidding, they don’t curse. They don’t curse! THEY DO NOT CURSE … fyi, sometimes I catch them cursing.)

Now in an attempt to be Super Mom, I ask them what game they’d like to play. This is the first mistake of Super Mom. SMART Mom gives them 3 options or, actually, come to think of it, no options at all. But Super Mom wants the children to be “heard” and have their opinions “matter” … blah, blah, blah.

This now develops into a full blown whining session about which game to play until I scream at the Hubby (who has been hiding in the kitchen with his iPhone … and his soul) to solve this problem.

In a grand proclamation, he announces that we will play Monopoly! Everyone is in agreement! There will be peace in the land!!

WTF!? I suggested Monopoly 20 minutes ago!!
Anyway …

Now the decision of who goes first. This becomes like a high school moot court competition.

12 year old: “May it please the court, I would like to present my reasonings as to why I, the eldest child, should start the game. Number one … ” (fyi, she says this all in a British accent … Harry Potter style)

Down to the 7 year old.

“It’s MY TURN!!! Me, me, me!!” … sobbing/wailing/thrashing … “why do THEY always get to go first?!”

Honestly, we need to keep a chart for who goes first when. But I just really don’t care that much.

Once that decision has been made we already have 2 out of the 3 sulking. We are now threatening the kids left and right and the game hasn’t even started.

“If you don’t stop staring at your brother that way …”
“Please stop rubbing it in that you are going first …”
“Stop whining!”
“Stop making that growling noise”
“Do NOT fart on your sister!!”
“Where are you going?” (as one of them storms off)

Don’t even get me started on who gets the thimble!! (Spoiler alert: no one wants the thimble but me)

And has anyone ever REALLY sat down and played Monopoly. To the end? The bitter, bitter, BIIIIIITTTTTTEEEEERRRR depressing end? Like, two days later and you’re eyes are all blurry and you’ve been subsisting on chips and M&M’s alone and you have no money (just like in real life) and you just want it all to end … including your own life.

All 3 are pissed because we’ve had to end early – and by “had to” I mean we couldn’t take it anymore. (seriously, we only played for 5 minutes when we announced “bed time!!”).

Jesus, that was exhausting. I wonder what sadistic imbecile came up with this exercise in frustration … oh yeah, it was me.

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