Picking Up the Pieces of My Life - A Disjointed Rant

I've reached that rare parenting moment, or in my case several days, where almost everything my kids do makes me heave big sighs, roll my eyes, and hold back my vitriol. They're just annoying the hell out out of me lately and I can't tell you why. I take full responsibility for my mood, oscillating between irritable and barely congenial. But even with my questionable tolerance level, the kids seem to be in their own zone of button pushing. And the three of us are playing a game of "annoying tennis". They serve, I volley, we rally and then one of us loses the point.

For instance - night before last, Rose woke up at 3AM and demanded to watch a movie. With sweet sleepiness, Chris told her she was a whack job, kissed her and put her back to bed. When she tried the same stunt an hour later, I didn't open the door; I firmly told her to get her hiney back to bed. When she pressed, I all but yelled in a half-sleep. Rosie shuffled back to her bed and waited patiently to make her demands in the light of day.

Last night, she was up until 10:45. No, she didn't drink any coffee.....to my knowledge. After several bed checks and hours of cajoling, I found her in the closet playing with her truck. When I asked her why she wasn't in bed, she told me plainly that she'd found her truck and was playing with it. Perfectly reasonable at two, I guess. She finally fell asleep at 11:30.

Throughout this week, she's been obsessed with the bathroom sink. Brushing her teeth, washing her hands, and getting water "to drink" have caused the following results:

1) Three head injuries......minor
2) Eight bath and nine face towels used for clean-up
3) Seven time outs

And then the big sister; Harper's been up to her usual tricks - not listening....at all and even less after she's eaten "healthy" cereal from Trader Joes, taking an hour for one small task and engaging in the mother of all annoyances, talking in baby talk. My Dad hated baby talk, was quick to correct any "baby" transgressions and relentless in his criticism. Like most everything else, my parents and their lessons, intentional or not, creep into my parenting. Mea culpa on the cereal - I didn't try it before I gave it to her, but still....eighteen requests for teeth brushing would tire the most patient of mums. And the baby talk. I might be even less tolerant than my Dad; I try to correct her gently and reserve the criticism for myself.

But perhaps the most annoying part of this week has been picking up. Yes, it must be my mood, because I pick this stuff up everyday. But this week, my normal duties have become intolerable. This is a picture of the things underneath my dining room table this morning - the result of three hours of play. The rest of the house was equally junked, but this is a small sample.


Look closely and you'll see a Hello Kitty ice pack, a pair of Harper's underpants (clean) that Rosie decided to try on because she's a big girl, a tupperware container used earlier in the evening for crackers (cracker crumbs not pictured), an empty tape dispenser, Harper's turkey art which Rose drew on, crushed and stepped on (Harper hit her sister in retaliation, Rose fired back and they both got time outs), and several bits of art detritus.

I don't know. Being a stay-at-home mom means that you have to pick up the same stuff over and over again. It's the job, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it. And this week, I don't; I really don't like the stuff I have to do over and over again. And raising kids, like picking stuff up off the floor is and "over and over again" proposition. For now, I'll keep doing it and wait for an ounce of perspective. Because right now, I've got nothing - nothing but big sighs and momentary distaste for my chosen occupation.