This rant brought to you by the letter B and the number 6
...In other words, it's not just a Calgon moment but a Calgon day.
One of those where you look at your kids and wonder how the hell they even got here. How common sense didn't rule after the first night of colic with the first kid.
Em is in more of a screaming phase than normal. The normal amount of screaming I'm quite sure has killed some nearby animals. She starts this bloodcurdling screech (As Aimee has heard) and the paint starts to fall from walls or something. It is just so god awful bad. The whole shitfit will be completely unintelligible because the screech is so bad it cancels out words. A tape of her would do wonders at Gitmo, I'm telling you.
So she is worse this week. In the time it took to type this so far there have been 3 screeches from her. Talking is useless. Yelling is useless. I'm trying not to respond & that seems useless. She's also shredding things. Paper. Magazines. She took the top off B's cup & handed it to her. I found B beneath the kitchen table splashing & rolling in milk. Yes. Milk. Truly making up for the twoness she never really embraced I guess.
Meanwhile B is two & well aware. She tidal waved the bathroom awhile ago by trying to flush not one but TWO entire roles of Charmin down the toilet. 1.5 of those roles went down. Maya ever so casually alerted me to this by saying, "Um mom, you have to see Bridget in the bathroom".
3 inches of water, flooded hallway carpet, etc...
Grocery store. i thought that'd be okayish. They are always angelic in public. Or "fake" as we call it. Not today. Smackdown in the cracker aisle. Maya wanted cheese nips & Em wanted Teddy Grahams so I said compromise. Bam. Down on the floor slamming each other. I could not believe it. Could. Not. meanwhile B is trying to throw herself out of the cart while saying, "I'll help you Ah-Me!(Emmy)"
Gave them very early baths in the last hour. As Em was in the tub B was downstairs ripping 400 mother trucking kiddie books off the shelves. As Bridget was in the tub Maya drew a mother trucking mural on my kitchen table & tried to say Em did it. Wood table, white crayon, little girls with google eyes & pig tails.
I. Don't. Fucking. Think. So.
Emmy can barely draw a circle because "It's boring."
If my head ever stops spinning I'm going to need aspirin or something stronger to offset the whiplash pain I'm telling you.
One of those where you look at your kids and wonder how the hell they even got here. How common sense didn't rule after the first night of colic with the first kid.
Em is in more of a screaming phase than normal. The normal amount of screaming I'm quite sure has killed some nearby animals. She starts this bloodcurdling screech (As Aimee has heard) and the paint starts to fall from walls or something. It is just so god awful bad. The whole shitfit will be completely unintelligible because the screech is so bad it cancels out words. A tape of her would do wonders at Gitmo, I'm telling you.
So she is worse this week. In the time it took to type this so far there have been 3 screeches from her. Talking is useless. Yelling is useless. I'm trying not to respond & that seems useless. She's also shredding things. Paper. Magazines. She took the top off B's cup & handed it to her. I found B beneath the kitchen table splashing & rolling in milk. Yes. Milk. Truly making up for the twoness she never really embraced I guess.
Meanwhile B is two & well aware. She tidal waved the bathroom awhile ago by trying to flush not one but TWO entire roles of Charmin down the toilet. 1.5 of those roles went down. Maya ever so casually alerted me to this by saying, "Um mom, you have to see Bridget in the bathroom".
3 inches of water, flooded hallway carpet, etc...
Grocery store. i thought that'd be okayish. They are always angelic in public. Or "fake" as we call it. Not today. Smackdown in the cracker aisle. Maya wanted cheese nips & Em wanted Teddy Grahams so I said compromise. Bam. Down on the floor slamming each other. I could not believe it. Could. Not. meanwhile B is trying to throw herself out of the cart while saying, "I'll help you Ah-Me!(Emmy)"
Gave them very early baths in the last hour. As Em was in the tub B was downstairs ripping 400 mother trucking kiddie books off the shelves. As Bridget was in the tub Maya drew a mother trucking mural on my kitchen table & tried to say Em did it. Wood table, white crayon, little girls with google eyes & pig tails.
I. Don't. Fucking. Think. So.
Emmy can barely draw a circle because "It's boring."
If my head ever stops spinning I'm going to need aspirin or something stronger to offset the whiplash pain I'm telling you.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment