Crazy Mom

Do you suppose that children are born with the ability to detect their mothers' crazy buttons? I mean, how is it that they are so PERFECTLY able to choose the exact moment that misbehavior will make me nuts? Today was one of those days. It actually was only one of those evenings--the rest of the day was fine. And really, it is my own fault. . .but still (hear the whining in my voice??)

R. had a playdate at our house with some kids from his preschool class. That was fun, but I didn't realize how late it was until S. got home from work. What I had intended to make for dinner would take 1 1/2 hours to cook, and we were all starving. So, we went out to eat. That made me mad at myself because I made bad choices and ate a LOT of garlic bread, so I was testy.

From there, we went to Mervyns, because R. has no pants that fit him. He needs to ones with the tabs inside the waist, because he keeps getting longer, but not wider (much like his older brother--much UNLIKE his mother). Anyway--R. and J. came in with me. N. and S. went to Sports Authority to get a new soccer ball (we are getting WAY into soccer these days).

So, the two small children, whom I thought were tired enough to be compliant, suddenly got bursts of energy and were sprinting through the store in opposite directions. Hiding in clothes racks, pulling things off shelves. . .etc. Of course, I am MAD because I want to get the stupid pants and go home and sleep. And, I am freaking out, because my brain is still German enough to be scared to death of my children being kidnapped in public places in America. So, I am crazily chasing them, and trying to take advantage of the GREAT sales.

S. calls on the cell phone to tell me they found a soccer ball for $10. I, frankly, could care less. I hang up and continue chasing. When S. and N. come through the door I actually say "I have never been closer to physical violence with those children than I am right now." I then walk completely away. I have no idea if S. can even see them, although I do see N. sliding on his knees down the walkway. Lovely. Nice addition to the rack hide 'n' go seek game!

In the car, R. starts complaining that he is hungry. I just about hit the roof, because he had to be FORCED to eat 3 bites of his dinner. (It was excellent pizza--no excuses!) He is still asking for food or milk or whatever when we get home. No no no no no. If you don't eat dinner, you don't get to fill up on junk or milk. You get only water until breakfast (I don't want to hear it--especially from my parents who are cracking up right now at the thought of the payback I am getting for my childhood eating habits--just hush!) So, he cries.

J. is crying for who knows why. So, I go up to check on him, and he pukes all over the place. 3 times. Great. Stick him in the tub. R. stops crying because he wants to get in the bath too. THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE IN BED BECAUSE I AM CERTAIN THAT THERE IS CHOCOLATE SOMEWHERE IN THIS HOUSE WAITING TO BE CONSUMED BY ME!!

Everyone gets out, gets PJs on, and then they start "Mommy, can you sleep with me?" This question literally makes me want to pull my hair out because they say it so much. In fact, my response to them was "That question makes me want to pull my hair out." Why do they even have their own rooms? Or their own beds? I may have lost some weight, but I am still not getting a good night's sleep when I am sharing a twin bed with a squirmy 3 year old &/or his older or younger brother!

So--the last thing my kids hear me say before they go to bed is "No--I want to sleep in my own bed by myself!" Great. I suck. SUCK SUCK SUCK! On a normal basis, my response is "I'll lay down with you until you go to sleep and then I'm going to sleep in my room." I'm sure that is not the right way to handle it, but it is kinder than today's response. Today I suck.