…being dicks? Gasp, did she just call her precious children dicks? Yes. Yes, I did. Why? Because one of them (Elliot) has reached the peak of separation anxiety. Obviously being out of his sight means I have been abducted by rabid squirrels. Zach doesn’t appreciate the younger one getting undivided attention. And by “doesn’t appreciate” I mean he throws a fit about not being included. At least I have two legs, making the ratio of limbs to kids equal.
Despite my daily/hourly regurgitation of, “the sooner you let me finish, the sooner I can (insert one of the following: get juice, snack, play, read, color, build train tracks, be the Joker to your Batman)”, the Small People are failing to grasp the true meaning. They refuse to see the relationship between my mood and their ability to entertain themselves for 5 minutes. For serious, there is no one in the world that I want to spend 24/7 with–not even the fruit of my womb. They both vehemently disagree–wanting all of me, all the time. Which I don’t get–honestly, I’m just not that much fun.
But needing me makes them invent annoying behavior to get my attention. And by annoying, I mean dick-ish. Today, I had to decline E’s request to watch the Monster Truck show (educational learning, no thanks. Monster Trucks circa 1989, yes please). After I used all of my parenting skills to redirect him from the screaming, fist-punching, spittle-flying fit he had all over the living room, Zach leaned over and whispered:
Monster Truck Show would be great right now, hunh Elliot?
See that’s funny–I hear you laughing. It’s okay, had it happened to someone else I’d be doing the silent-snort-laugh, too. So not funny when it happened, though. Wasn’t funny when Zach repeated the question 30 minutes later, either.
And when it’s all said and done, of course I learned another parenting truth today. The broad statement, “Go Find Something To Do“, when two children are determined to piss you off, will end badly. My edict did lack specificity. I probably shouldn’t have freaked out so much when I found Zach trying to mummify Elliot with painter’s tape. But, seriously, he knew the spirit of what I meant, and it had nothing to do with wrapping his brother with tape.
Wine? Yes, thank you, I will.