They say it a million times a day. Every five minutes someone needs something. A snack, a drink, to use the potty, watch a movie, go outside.
And they wait. I’m in the kitchen for an hour, no one needs anything. As soon as I sit down in the living room, “Mom, I’m thirsty. Please?” Then there are 25 other things they need too.
I hear people say, “I just want someone to need me.” Well, I just want to be left alone! Or at least around people who can wipe their own butts and pour their own glasses of milk.
My kids are driving me crazy. No. Actually, I think I might already be crazy. They did it. They finally did it.
They broke me.
They’re fighting over stupid stuff. The other day I hear David crying. Then Wade starts crying. I go in to find out what happened and Wade says, “David! You’re not allowed to cry. I’m the one who cries. Stop crying.”
David says, “Wade! I can cry if I want too!”
Wade says, “No! Stop it!” Now they’re both wailing like someone shot their puppy.
Seriously? Fighting over who can cry and who can’t? Do you see why I have one foot in the psych ward?
“How about both of you stop crying, and I go curl up on my bed in the fetal position and I cry! I am the one who get to cry, because I am the mommy!”
Usually I can shake it off, but lately I can’t let the frustration go. And that makes me short with them. I yell. A lot. About unimportant stuff. Then I feel bad, and I’m even more frustrated.
It hasn’t been an easy summer. My husband’s worked a lot. Especially in the evening. I don’t know why, but it’s much harder on my own with the kids at night than during the day. We canceled our vacation. Money is tight because of unexpected expenses. We only have one vehicle right now which often leaves the boys and I stuck at home when my husband is working.
I all adds up to me wanting to lock myself in the bathroom.
Wait. No. Not the bathroom. They’ll find me in there, and stage a sit-in on the other side of the door, pounding and banging until I finally come out. I wouldn’t be surprised if they somehow came up with a tear gas bomb to smoke me out. Just so I could get them some fruit snacks.
In a couple weeks my husband will be home most nights again. School will start, and we’ll get back to our regular routine. I’ll only have one child to contend with during the day. We’ll have our other vehicle back. It will all get better very soon.
In the meantime, my parents are coming to take the boys to their house for the weekend. In about 12 hours they’re coming, and the boys are leaving. Yes, I’m counting down. 12 hours.
I. Can. Not. Wait.