I wrote this last night, posting this morning.
My sons fight like their lives depend on it. It’s as if you’ve combined the Bachelorette and Jersey Shore and put the show on the Disney Channel.
I literally have nothing left. I am an empty shell of a woman right now, sitting in a corner with my glass of wine and blogging. I mean, how can children fight this much? Seriously, I’m asking you this.
Like, when I feel like I’m nagging or I need to let something go, I do….most of the time. Not my children. They keep going and going, at each other throats, determined to get the last word in.
To counter, I start off sounding like a kindergarten teacher…..
“Ok boys, that’s enough. Let’s be nice to each other.”
2 minutes later, I am now a middle school teacher…
“Dudes, knock it off now.”
5 minutes later and I am channeling my inner Joan Crawford….
“I swear to holy hell that if you both don’t stop talking to each other you will be grounded for life. Don’t even look at each other! You are driving me to drink!”
“Geeze, ok mom! You don’t have to yell!” Is what I hear after I get to my breaking point. They act like I am over reacting.
I am an empty shell because my husband was gone between 12:20 and 5:30 today on some stupid soccer preparation meeting….at BW3’s. How convenient. Next week he’ll be gone all of Friday evening and Saturday for this soccer meeting, lesson, orgy, whatever the hell it is.
My breaking point tonight happened about 15 minutes ago when my oldest P yelled the following:
“C, you left your socks on the sofa again!”
This is the kid that leaves tissues by his bed from his cold 3 weeks ago or crumbs from his Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie on the end table with his empty Capri Sun.
I lost it. “Stop it P! Right now! I don’t care about his stupid socks. Just give’em to me!”
His next move was to throw them at me. I lost my shit.
“Get up stairs! Right now! If you even look at your brother your grounded!”
If parenthood has taught me anything, it’s a new found appreciation for my father’s glass or 3 of wine each night or my mother’s Joan Crawford like behavior. I can’t even imagine having 3 daughters. I was the oldest. I fought 4 times worse with my middle sister G and babied my youngest sister S. I mean, the fights with G were epic. I remember once hitting her over and over again with the landline phone, while the cord got even more tangled. She just laid there laughing, which fueled my anger even more. Even as young adults (21 and 18), we once ruined mother’s day when we began to shove each other in the parking lot of a restaurant.
There are moments of peace but it’s usually when they don’t know I’m watching. The only time I remember getting along with G is when we thought we were going to die. This usually occurred when a bat flew into our home and usually every summer. We hid under the sheets of the bed in the guest room, telling each other we loved each other. We were confident we would be bitten by the rabid bat. Eventually our dad would shew it out of the house or an employee of our father’s would come over with a net and catch it.
So this is just me venting. Do you have kids? Do you have kids that fight? If your kids get along like besties, don’t be an ass hole and tell me. I want to know I’m not the only one.
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