I just ripped my husband a new one for deciding to take a shit while I was on a conference call. Generally, he can make a bowel movement whenever he damn well pleases, except at this time, it meant leaving the older kids alone and to their own devices. And lately, that means fights. Knock down drag 'em out better than two hos fighting over Flavor Flav, which isn't so great when you're trying to have a civilized conversation with a potential client.
Excuse me a moment while I go sit on my children.
The tenuous sibling relationship is one of the many things that they don't tell you in those damn baby books. I realize that there's only so much you can fit into 300 pages before the book gets tossed up on a bookshelf to collect dust. And then there's just too many things that they really can't tell you because you have to experience it on your own or you'd probably never have kids.
Or at least have more of them.
Aside from buying two of everything, which really doesn't do anything but jam pack your house full of more shit, it seems that we moms inevitably become judge, jury, and referee. And it's just not anything I feel prepared for nor something that I feel at all capable of doing.
I can understand the older child's annoyance with having her building blocks knocked down, her papers torn, and her pictures colored upon. And I can understand the younger child's desire to want to play with her, be near her, and engage with her in his own extremely special way.
I just haven't been able to effectively express those sentiments in a way that doesn't involve me yelling my guts out and sending both children to the corner.
Seriously, why can't we all just get along?
So after the fights, the trips to time out, and the timer setting for a fucking Magnadoodle, I'm exhausted and frustrated. And I feel like a failure.
Yesterday, I could no longer bring myself to plop my son back on his time out stool as he laughed the whole way there and back. I had no more idle threats of lost desserts, hammers, and stories. And I just cried, a loud long blubbering sloppy ass cry.
It's one thing to have these kids. But it's a whole other one to actually raise them.