Sigh

It’s been too long since I wrote.
I’ve been working just a little over the last couple of weeks, and it seems to have sucked up all of my free time.

Right now Thing 1 is giving me detailed instructions on how I'm supposed to assemble the book she's making. She just lit into me a little bit ago because I did something apparently horribly wrong in its construction. You'd have thought I started removing her limb with a spoon for the reaction I got.

Oh. And now she just found a series of pictures she printed out from one of her computer programs that she had taped together to form a story... they've been on our wall for about two months and the other day I pulled them down while she wasn’t looking – the only way I can clean our walls, and put them in the recycle bag. She just found them. And now I'm in deep doo-doo again.

So many ways I disappoint her. Sigh.

And of course I'm ignoring her while she rants and I'm typing. It's better than paddling her behind, I guess. Maybe.

Maybe not.

Okay, she's not that bad....

And most of the time she's overwhelmingly sweet.

Okay. I just got chastised again because she's going to the bathroom and this irritated little voice hollers at me from the other room saying "Mommy! I'm waiting for you to wipe me!"

Oh really? Is that how you ask me to wipe your little ass? Aside from the fact that you're old enough to do it yourself, didn't your mother ever teach you if you want someone to do something for you, you should ask them nicely first? Certainly before you cuss them out for not doing it?

Well???

So I hear this noise... the noise of a little hand bopping out the toilet paper... the sound of the toilet paper roll vibrating against the holder as yards and yards of toilet paper are unrolled into a pile on the floor.

She'll show me what happens if I don't go wipe her butt when she yells at me that I haven’t come in to wipe her butt...
Sigh.
So I go in and say "Is that how much you need? Here, let me help you..." I grab the toilet paper hanging off and give it a yank...

Guess who gets to roll all that toilet paper back on the roll?

Who exactly is the mature one in this relationship?

Sigh.

Some days being a stay-at-home mom really sucks.


Thing 2 was saying something in the car the other day. She was yelling at me that something was wrong with her magna-doodle, but I can’t remember what she was saying was wrong with it. It wasn’t “applicable” or “permeated,” or “appropriate” or something like that, that made no sense. Porous? Possible? Probable. No, I can’t remember. While I hated her yelling at me it was pretty funny that she insisted her problem involved this weird state of being that made no sense at all.