The men in my life and the ways they make me homicidal.

I love my family.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way.

So.  My sons are being assholes.  The youngest is doing his level best to perfect the evil, raspy, seriously pissed scream that all babies use when attempting to puncture an eardrum.  He generally only uses this mode of communication when he’s tired and I’m taking too long to clean him off before removing him from his high chair or I’m not walking fast enough to suit him.  Or I’m breathing too loud.  I’ve taken to either blowing in his face or yelling back at him (which always reduces him to the tears of an emotionally crushed person) to show him that I don’t care how pissy he is, I will not tolerate being screamed at.  He can cry all he wants but he will NOT scream at me.  I don’t know if this counts as effective parenting but I don’t want him to be the kind of two-year-old who thinks he can get what he wants by screaming.  He’d be screaming all day and I’d be legally insane.  I think the reason I like very young babies so much is because they are so cute, quiet and without personality.  They are these adorable little lumps of flesh that are soft, cuddly, fragrant and pliable.  I never got annoyed with my baby for needing to eat in the middle of the night or being upset over a messy diaper.  I think that is because these are reasonable needs and that is what they are supposed to do.  If they didn’t let us know what they needed we’d never figure it out on our own.  However, once they pass the six month mark things change.  It’s not really all about needs any longer.  It’s about wants and frustration and boredom and dictatorial behavior.  Generally speaking, he doesn’t want to be held he just wants to eat my glasses.  He doesn’t want to take a nap he just wants to be entertained instead of sitting in his bumbo surrounded by a mountain of stimulating toys while mommy attempts to wash her face and brush her teeth.  I feel like the ultimate bitch but I refuse to allow him to control every aspect of my day.  This has been somewhat conflicting for me because I’m not sure exactly what stay at home mommies are supposed to do if not that.  Either way, I’m not into the idea that the kids should have more say in what goes on in the house than I do.  I’m the adult, dammit. 

My oldest has also decided that today is the day to make mommy crazy.  We started off by me going into his room to inform him that if he didn’t stop stomping on the floor I was going to use his college fund to buy Valium.  While I was in there I decided to get clean clothes for the baby and looked up to notice that someone (I wonder who!?!?) had cut the strings that hold the blinds together.  I asked my oldest how that had happened and he told me with wide-eyed innocence that he didn’t know……..he was just jumping around.  I informed him in that menacing way I have perfected (this was further sharpened by the fact that this was a pre-coffee altercation) that I believed that to be utter crapola and that he’d better tell me.  He said “I’m not going to lie” and handed me his scissors.  I’m pretty sure that steam began to pour from my hair.  I asked him if he cut them yesterday after being sent to his room for back-talking and he said yes.  I asked him if he did it because he was mad that he was sent to his room and he said yes.  I was so pissed I had to walk out of the room without a word, change the baby, and then come back.  I informed him that he would be spending the day in his room.  I also informed him that I would be taking his piggy banks to pay for the damage.  He immediately started in on the unfairness of this at which point I explained to him in a blistering voice that even though we live here, the house is not ours (as I have explained many times before) and that he knows we are moving in just a few short months and everything will have to be fixed before we go.  I told him that if it costs money for the blinds to be repaired it will be his money that paid for it.  After leaving his room I went about my business in a huff, pissed and a little depressed that either his meds are no longer working or he’s just evil incarnate or maybe I’m just a shitty mom.  I went to my room to e-mail the hubby and my oldest decided to follow me in with his latest gift.  It read: “Mom  You do not love me and I do not love you.”  Sweet.  I set it down and sent him back to his room.  Two minutes later he returned with an identical one for dad.  He also made a point of showing me how he had scratched his legs repeatedly leaving long, angry red marks.  I let him know that doing that wasn’t smart because it hurt and it didn’t get him anywhere.  He looked a little deflated by my logic but had to agree.  He has since decided that life is not ruined after all.  He was actually a little teary over a family picture he colored and he’s been very agreeable. 

I’m a little worried though.  After all, it’s just now eleven in the morning and this is the kind of day we’ve had so far. 

Of course all the hubby has to say is that we all have bad days.  He doesn’t seem to understand that bad days here can bring about the end of the world.  At the moment I’m fed up with the lot of them and am considering relocating to Siberia.