This afternoon, I got a reply to my comment on Antique Mommy’s blog regarding some tapestries she found at a garage sale. In return, she received the following from me. She will, no doubt, never reply to a comment from me again. . .
Hello, Antique Mommy,
You caught me on a day when I need to chat/whine momentarily and you’re the first e-mail I opened, so please bear with me. I have read your blog long enough to know that you will understand the tone of this–the voice, if you will–and not find me a totally horrible mother.
But I am crabby. And I am about to THROW DOWN. There is nothing–NOTHING–that I can do without being pecked to death–LITERALLY. Allow me to explain.
I can no longer listen to music that I like in my own home unless I choose to listen to it while also listening to Veggie Tales (which I love) or a computer truck game of some sort. This morning before church I ANNOUNCED that I was going to listen to some music. . .and I TURNED IT UP. . .and I went to get something to drink while one child turned DOWN the music and the other went and turned on PBS Kids where Allison Krauss was singing the Berenstein Bears theme song. When I turned OFF the t.v. and turned UP the music, they looked at me as though I’d slapped them.
The children argued which side of mommy each of them would get to sit on during church this a.m. Never mind that I have not one, but TWO equal opportunity sides. I am currently down about 5 1/2 pounds on each side due to a hard fought but steady and slow weight loss since January, but there are still TWO sides of me. And also never mind that I would actually like to sit next to their father, formerly known as MY HUSBAND, during church, because he puts his arm around me, and I like that. I can reach out and hold his hand if I want at any time, because I HAVE EARNED THAT and I FOUND HIM FIRST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I think that God in his heaven smiles down at our happy family. . .but he can’t really SEE me from his vantage point, because I’m covered in arms and legs and heads that are still, at the ages of 8 1/2 and 5 1/2 rubbing their faces all over my church clothes.
When we came home, I looked at my husband and said, “I need to eat, like NOW.” And he said, “Go for it.” Then he disappeared to the back yard to work on a project and left the hungry children with me. . .and guess who did NOT get to eat. I am not in the habit of making my children wait for food, in fact, I normally get up and down like a million times during meals as I’m sure do you, but today I NEEDED TO EAT RIGHT THEN. Of course, they got their food first since we weren’t having a sit-down meal today and so they would BE SILENT, and by the time I get my FIRST opportunity to sit down, they were needing something else and. . .
Nap? Sunday afternoon naps are just something that I as a human being love, love, love. That, and I’m still working off the sleep deprivation that came from HAVING two children. My CHILDREN have not cared to nap EVER, but one day they will. And when they do, I will INSIST on walking into the room where they are napping and I will set up forts, or talk very, very loudly while putting together puzzles, OR I will drag out the adirondack chair that is in pieces and both the loud, clanky metal candleabras that they have stored under their bed so I can hide under it and giggle. And if they do not have loud, clanky metal candleabras and an adirondack chair under their beds, I will bring my own and bang the various components around. And when they wake up and look at me with their incredulous looks, I will say, “Sorry. . .” and run off to do something else.
So I was grumpy and got up and went to find their father/my husband in the back yard still working on his project. I sat in the spring time grass and began to pour out my woes and he said, “Sorry. . .” in the very off-handed way his children had just used moments before. Then the two chickens we have (yes, chickens in the suburbs) walked over and began pecking me. ONLY ME. They were pecking at the leaves on my shirt. There were THREE other humans in the yard, and they pecked at only me.
What is up with that?
Well, I’ll tell you. I once saw a sign that said, “Raising children is like being pecked to death by ducks.” And I am being pecked to death by a buffet of fowl–ducks, chickens. . .the doves and black birds might even want to take a crack at me soon.
And I got interrupted during this whole thing so I could “play church” with the annoying/adorable children ’cause they are just so stinkin’ cute, and what kind of mother would I truly be if I refused to “play church” and wrote this whiny little e-mail to you instead?
There. I feel better. And I love, love, love them. . .but I needed to vent. Whew. . .
And now I will only say a little of the obligatory “I have a wonderful family. I love them deeply and truly.” stuff before I go off to make dinner and then listen to them harangue me for going on my daily 30 minute walk ALONE. “You’re gone too long, Mommy. I will miss you. I can keep up. I won’t whine to come home. I promise.”