Safety and Security Notice:

I never include last names or specific locations here, for the safety of our children. If you or your child is a friend of me or mine, and you approve a first name and photo being posted as appropriate, please click this link to email me with written permission. Thank you

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Mom needs a break... badly

See? I can turn anything into a gaming reference.

I have good kids. But I also have little patience for mindless noise for noise's sake. I don't mind the giggles and the sotto voce whispers; they're cute. I even like the clapping games and things of that sort, and I'm okay with endless rounds of Dora the Explorer singing ¡Lo Hicimos! at the top of her lungs or the constant stream of  iCarly shenanigans. But arguing over things that only 10- and 8-year-olds find important (who gets to be the wizard in charge of animals and who controls plants?) or even better, the tattling about such things (look, if it's not a health or safety issue, work it out. Quietly) - these things make me want to scream. The whining and the fake-crying from the three-year-old (especially when she is undernapped) are not my favorite sounds either ("wahhh wahhh. I want to plaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy". Arg.)

And since Leanna is still getting over the Ear Infection of Doom, she can't hear how loud her voice is (and volume control is not her best skill anyway). Abby's got a cold and apparently she can't hear it either; she's Miss Shrill today. Lizzy, as noted above, has not napped and is thereby Dropping her Spoon* at every opportunity. Calgon, take me away.

Heh, that sounds a little gamer-reference-y too. I envision a large, Orc-like creature picking up a Damsel (or more likely an Overstressed Mom) and dragging her off to take a hot bubble bath and get a massage and a mani-pedi, while the kids whine to nobody but themselves. Bliss.

As I said, they're good kids. They have done nothing wrong; this is on me - just Normal Kid Things on my last nerve this afternoon. But soon, Hubby will be home and they can be on him for an hour, while Calgon the Caring and I share at least the bubble bath portion of that strange little fantasy. After supper. And after the dishes are done. And after they (hopefully) actually eat the fish I'm making. Wish me luck.

*Note: for those not familiar with the phrase "dropping her spoon", it refers to that overtired state babies and toddlers and preschoolers (well, everyone, but it's more obvious with these age groups) get where they seem to be fine but every. Little. Thing. Is The End of the World. As in "la la la la la... Oh! I dropped my sppooooooooooooooooooon!"