I realize that many of you may think that the content of my blogs stem from a crabby old Mom who does nothing but complain. Okay, so maybe not quite to that extent, but I do admit that I am capable of a LOT of ranting.
Perhaps more for my own sake, than just reader's entertainment, I have decided to create my list of frustrations. I've felt them being bottled up and pushed aside for weeks, perhaps months, now... and it's time for sweet release. I'm sure many of you can relate. Or maybe at least feel sorry for me for a nanosecond before you say "Oh, get over it already!". Either way, here goes...
1. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, MOMMY!": WHAT??? I want to scream it every time. WHAT DO YOU WANT? With each "Mommy" my blood pressure rises. My head begins to pound. My breathing speeds up. I feel my throat tighten. Ears completely ringing, I give the look of death to whichever child has a case of the "Mommies" and hope that with that one look I will get my point across. FAT CHANCE. And so, it continues.
Child: "Mommy?"
Me (calmly): Yes?"
Child (more urgent): "Mommy!"
Me (symptoms noted above becoming vaguely apparent): "What?"
Child (not even paying attention to me answering them): "Mommy!!!"
Me (OH.MY.GOD.) "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???????"
Child (high pitched voice, verge of ADHD): "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!!!"
Me (eyes bulging, throat grumbling, sweaty brow - voice of Satan himself): "W.H.A.T?"
Cue your child: Finally realizing you're speaking to them, they give you a confused look as they briefly glance away from the t.v. screen in your direction. Wondering why you are now screaming at them with bulging veins at your temples, they give you a blank stare before turning back to SpongeBob and completely ignoring you.
2. The Repeated Request: You all know this one. Your child wants something. They want it now. No, not 3 seconds from now. NOW! No you may not blink. No you may not breathe. No you may not finish chewing that last bite of dinner. GET. IT. FOR. ME. NOW! Once they realize that you are not buying into their attitude and demands, they ask again. And again. And again. And again. And again. I could go on for forever with the "agains". No, really. I could. Case in point, a few minutes ago my dear son wanted a ham sandwich. Yes, he just finished eating a bowl of cereal about 10 minutes ago. A rather large bowl might I add. All of a sudden he's famished... and now nothing will do but a ham sandwich with mayo and salt and pepper. Hey, he knows what he likes. I am taking a brief moment to jot down some thoughts for this blog and answer his sandwich request with a "Okay, just a second". That is simply not good enough. 14 seconds later he asks again. "Mom, are you going to get me a ham sandwich?". My reply, "Yes, I said in just a second". Silence for a whole solid minute. He can't help himself. "Mommmmmm, are you EVER going to get me a ham sandwich??!!". I turn in my swivel computer chair to stare at him. In fact, I stare him down to the point where I think he gets it. He sheepishly grins at me and continues doing his magnet book thingy on the floor in the living room. I turn back to the screen and type 4 more words... "Mommmmm....." At this point I shove back the chair across the floor and storm off to the kitchen. If I said what I wanted the neighbors might hear me and become concerned. I often wonder if they hear me when I REALLY get going. It's not often, but come on, you have to admit that our kids all cause us to go off the deep end every once in awhile. So anyway, I finally deliver the precious ham sandwich to my son at the kitchen table after I ask him to come sit down at least 7 times (God forbid I interrupt what HE is doing) and plant my butt down at the computer again to finish up a final thought. Before I can even begin to type another single solitary word I hear "Ummm... Mom? When I'm done my sandwich I want a piece of that delicious chocolate you got yesterday. Oh, and Mom? Can I have a glass of chocolate milk?". I'm serious, it never ends.
3. I need attention. I need your undivided attention. More attention please. A little more... a little more... PERFECT! No wait, maybe a little more: I think I've told you before that I must do these blogs in a 10 part process through several days in order to have the time to complete a sentence. Like, for example, right now my son is literally standing next to me as I type asking me why there are different color tootsie pops and why is it that he always gets a red one and his sister, Livy, always gets a purple one... and do I know where his paper airplanes are?? Oh, and Mom, Livy spilled some dry cereal on the floor... and Mom, ummm... can Dad build a paper airplane out of anything else besides paper? How? ::laughing hysterically all by himself now:: He says "Why would Dad even DO that??" It just goes on and on and on... and most days I find myself laughing hysterically as well because otherwise my head would EXPLODE. Laughter is the best medicine, I have always agreed with this statement. While this lovely one-sided conversation is going on, Livy (with her purple tootsie pop... why DOES she always have purple anyway??) comes over to me acting like she has something disgusting in her mouth. Spitting at some invisible object and grimacing. Oh wait, she has a hair in her mouth. It's totally interfering with her ability to finish her tootsie pop. The entire right side of her hair is plastered with stickiness to her face and has worked it's way onto her bottom lip. I pull the hair away, it's stuck like a MOTHER but she doesn't care that I'm ripping it off her cheek. Hey guys, I know! Let's give you a taste of a typical 30 minute session of my life. I'm going to switch to "Real Life Current Mode" just for you. So while I'm now ripping away hair from skin the baby is in her swing, fussing loudly. She's so tired she can't see straight. Well, at least that's how it sounds... but she won't give up. Livy drops her tootsie pop on the floor as soon as I free her hair. I tell her to pick it up, she says emphatically "NO!" and has repeated this (as we speak) at least 15 times now. Okay, Livy, I get it. You are exercising your right to be a defiant toddler. Riley, meanwhile, is running over to punch her as he screams "STOP IT!". Apparently he is the boss today. I yell at both of them that hitting is not allowed. He hits her anyway. I banish him to the playroom. Instead of retaliating on Riley, Livy just chucked the "pop" (as she likes to call it) at my face and it fell into my lap. Niiiice. It's stuck firmly to my pajama pants. I yank it off, fuzz and all, and she snatches it out of my hand with a loud "MINE!". She is asking me to follow her to my bedroom. "Mommy, c'mon!" as she does the little follow me gesture with her hand. She is attempting to climb up on my bed with her sticky lollipop. I say no way and try to distract her with another idea. Her dollhouse. Now she is back there screaming at the top of her lungs... and most probably sliming up my entire comforter with her pop. I return to the computer. The Zhu-Zhu hamster Riley got for his birthday is sitting next to me on the desk and keeps making strange noises, but these are being over taken by Livy's high pitched squeals and screams of "Mommmmmmmmmy". She is pissed at me because I won't lift her up onto my bed with her sticky pop. Still screaming. I just tried to take the lollipop and lead her to the bathroom to wash her hands so she can get up onto my bed. Nope. That's not what she wants. She doesn't know what she wants. The screaming continues. Meanwhile, I noticed on my way back to the computer a moment ago that the baby who was FINALLY asleep when I walked past her to go get Livy in my room and settle her shenanigans is now awake again because of Livy's screaming. Grrrrrreat. As I'm telling Livy that she needs to stop screaming or she's going to sit in time out, Riley walks over and tells me in detail how his tootsie pop is now small. Yep, Riley, that happens when you eat it. Oh, and he also reports that the baby is awake. Yep, Riley, that happens when your nearly 2 year old sister sits in the hallway and has a fit over NOTHING. Oh, and the screaming is still going on right now. From both her and the baby. Alright, I just picked Livy up and changed her diaper - it didn't need changing but I swear to you that it turns my kids moods around a whole 180 degrees. It's strange, I know. While I did this Riley asked me how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop. I'm not sure so he says "Oh I know! It's three hundred six thousand four hundred and thirty." I nod my head and tell him good job for figuring that out. I put Livy down on the floor and she begins throwing a fit. I guess my diaper changing trick isn't working today. She wants her blanket from her crib. I tell her it's not in there, it's on the couch. She doesn't believe me. I pick her up and show her. I walk her out to the couch and plop her down on top of her blanket. She giggles. I wish a blanket could make me giggle. Meanwhile, Riley has successfully flung all of his magnets from his book thingy on the floor across the room. He blames it on Livy. I just yelled at him to pick them all up before his sister swallows one and it kills her. He immediately starts gathering them. For some reason when I threaten him with the death of his sister, he reacts. You might think it's cruel, but I can't figure out how else to make him remember that the small guns and/or puzzle pieces, marbles, etc. that he leaves EVERYWHERE could choke his sister and kill her. No matter how many times I go through the house and collect up all the small stuff, there always seems to be more. As he cleans up he is already planning out the ghost lollipops he wants to make with a tootsie pop, some string and a tissue. Livy, who is in a better mood is bringing me every last plastic bug she can find in Riley's room and screams "EWW!!" as she lines them up on the computer desk. I sneak away to go pick up the baby and nurse her until she falls asleep. Just put her in her bed and am now praying that she naps for at least 20 minutes. This has nothing to do with finding a moment's peace. Ha, peace? Yeah right. I just need 20 minutes to focus on the other kids needs. PHEW! Alright, it's taken me at least an hour to type this paragraph because of all of the interruptions. I've gotten up from this chair at least two dozen times already. Although it seems like I'm just typing "nothing-ness" right now - and you are probably completely lost with where I'm going... have been... or ever will be with my point, it's a PERFECT example of the level of "needing attention" time I go through. Each and every day. They all need it. All of the time. Usually at the same time. There is simply not enough of me to go around. No matter how hard I try, the attention requests keep coming. It is in these moments I want to scream "CALGON! Take me AWAY!". Whatever in the hell that means.
Alright, so 3 frustrations for today will have to do. I honestly don't have anymore time to give you more examples and my brain can't focus at this point anyway. It's being torn in 3 different directions by 3 tiny people. And you probably aren't reading this anymore anyway... and I don't blame you. Oh, and I've just been summoned to play the crazy duck game again. I think I'm scheduled for some arts and craft time after that. By then the baby will be awake and hungry. I'm sure "Mommy Mommy Mommy" will follow as soon as I sit myself down to feed her. Oh, and lunch time is almost here. The requests for snacks and going outside and reading books and turning on a movie and "watch me!" and "look at this!" and "listen to me!" and "can I have" will all follow shortly thereafter. Sorry people, I gotta run. The only "peace" I can give at this point is "Peace out!".
