I’ve been doing a lot of yelling lately. It’s so constant that I’m afraid my kids are going to start hating me. My throat actually hurts from it. I could list all the things my kids do to make me yell but anyone with kids probably knows all the things a two year old (or two) can get into. Let’s just say that my two year old twins seem to have a death wish. Or a wish that their mother go completely insane. I don’t know which.
Before I had kids, I used to picture myself as the mother of twins (yeah, I really did). The twins in my fantasy were toddlers, only slightly older than my kids are now. We would be on outside on the lawn, dancing around and laughing and we’d all sort of fall into a big heap, still laughing. And neighbors would walk by or look out their windows and think what a fun mom I was. You know why that would never happen? There are a few reasons, actually.
Number one, unless my house was surrounded by an electric fence and/or a moat, Jack would have darted far, far away before any such lawn dancing started. I would pick up Eliza and go chasing after him, screaming, Stop Right Now! Do you want to go back in the house? Get back here! and he’d keep running like he didn’t hear me. I would eventually catch up and grab his arm and he’d fall and cry. I’d be out of breath and sweating from sprinting after a toddler while carrying another toddler (because if I left her there, she would be gone when I got back). Then I’d try to get them both to walk back and they’d fall lifeless to the ground in protest. I’d drag them a few feet and yell some more to get (the f*ck) up or we will go back in the house!!!
At that point, my mood would have deteriorated and I would more or less drag them back to the lawn and insist they play like normal children, while I sit on the ground and try to ignore them. Kids are like cats when it comes to being ignored. They want nothing to do with you when you want a hug or a snuggle, but the second you feel like if you’re touched just one more time you’re going to FREAK, they decide you’re a jungle gym and while they’re climbing you, hey, wouldn’t it be fun to tangle their sticky fingers in your hair? Then Eliza would probably start one of her repetetive requests (I’na cheese stick, Mommy. I’na cheese stick. I’na cheese stick, Mommy. Cheese stick. In the kitchen. I’na cheese stick. Cheese Stick!) and Jack would run away again. Sigh.
So the mom voice. It’s loud. It’s obnoxious. The kids hate it. I hate it. I don’t know how else to say things though because they don’t listen. They do things like put the end of a plug in their mouth or try to play frog on the stairs or rip the blinds right off the windows.
I truly miss the days when I could put them in a jumperoo and leave the room for a minute. I can’t leave the room at all now, because it takes them all of 15 seconds to get into trouble. It feels a lot like the inmates are taking over the asylum.
Don’t get me wrong, some days with them are great, lots of fun even. Today is just not one of those days.