My shit is not together. My home life/ work life balance is an absolute farce. I haven’t picked up the dog poos in the garden for three days. (Wilf does six a day, Id love to say ‘you do the maths’ but its a pretty simple sum.) The reason behind it all has sneaked upon me. People talk about the terrible twos and threenagers but they should be naming the phase during parenting where your kids develop personalities. This is taking its toll more than the sleepless nights of a newborn. There is no way these boys would be my friends.
I know that they are CHILDREN but sometimes I am utterly blown away by the crap they do. Harbor thinks its hilarious to smack himself in the head. Then gets upset that it hurts. It leaves me speechless. Do I comfort him for the pain he is in or laugh at him because seriously YOU JUST SMACKED YOUR OWN FACE.
And the singing of one word over and over, while throwing his head from side to side should be used as a method of torture during interrogation. The only way I have found to cope with it is to look at him blankly until I hope part of him thinks ‘yeah I’m being an utter dick’. Ive no real way of knowing if those thoughts go through his head but my face normally gets the shit to stop. (Its my super power)
Dont even get me started on Sonny. He has to correct everything I say, even to give the same answer. ‘Would you like a cheese sandwich?’ ‘No I want a CHEESE sandwich’ each time this happens I physically feel part of my soul die. He also loves to ask the questions I cant answer, that even google and Dr Dre cant answer. Such as ‘Whats that table doing?’
Why are children so annoying, sticky and always there? They seem to have a tracking device on you so no matter where you are in the house they find you and then start with the questions. This device obviously needs some sort of wifi connection because as soon as you are in the pasta aisle of Asda, poof they’re gone.
Heaven forbid that you have more than one child. Now I find myself having to talk down a three year old who has his older brother in a head lock because he didn’t believe that he was invisible. They want everything the same but then argue over which identical toy belongs to who. The screeching, the whinging and the fighting chip chip chips away at your will to live. I have actually found myself saying ‘just sort it out between yourselves’ lately. Luckily they don’t have weapons or it definitely would be a fight to the death.
It amazes me that once they are freshly bathed and tucked up in bed I miss them. Im almost looking forward to the next day and what fresh hell awaits. Why do we do it to ourselves!