not to us

Oh my!

Ruby is in a bad habit of whining.  It's the age, I get it.  But I hope it stops soon, or I'm gonna lose it.

And Burke?  Just started this super irritating screaming/screeching thing.  I know that it's caused by his speech delay.  He is comprehending a lot.  He follows complex multiple-step commands, and he responds to complex communication.  However, he can't articulate his wants and needs.  Plus, on an unrelated note, he really hates hearing the word no (this is just the age).  So, anytime he's told no, he yells at me.

And here's where we come to the crying...

This morning the kids were up at 7:20.  By 7:30, I had been whined to and screamed at more than any person deserves.  Especially a person who hasn't even taken the time to empty her own over-filled bladder and is scurrying around the kitchen to get the milk poured and waffles toasted as quickly as humanly possible.  Not to mention, this person is still trying to claw her way back from a missed night of sleep (spent in the ER) and a busy day (that included a three hour trip to a dr's office with no toys.)  I'll admit: my patience at this point is non-existent. 

So, what do I do?  I turn around and look at my husband (who is totally innocent and has been doing nothing but trying to help placate the little monsters) and I say (in a very unkind and reprehensible tone), "Now you see why I want to go back to school and get out of here??  They haven't even been awake ten minutes, and I'm ready to hand them over to someone else!"

The shell-shocked look on his face is enough to bring me back to reality.  I shut my troublesome mouth and hand the kids their breakfast.  He heads out for work, and I finally go empty my bladder.  I'm already planning the wording of my apology e-mail when I look out the window and see that he's still at home, cleaning the frost off his windows.  My heart jumps, and I run outside to him.

"I'm so sorry I passed their whining and crying on to you.  I love you.  I hope you have a good day."  A kiss.  A hug.  And off he goes for ten hours before I can show him how truly sorry I am.

Meanwhile, the children aren't ready to apologize yet.  For the next half-hour, Burke screeches at me.  First, because I won't share anymore of my cereal with him.  (He's already eaten two waffles, a cup of yogurt, and half my cereal.)  Then, because I won't let him climb on the coffee table.  And, finally, because I tell him, "No, no!" when he's banging on the brand-new stair gate.

And that's when I cry the first time.  With tears streaming down my face, I carry him up to bed, sing him a song, tell him I love him, and put him back to bed.

When I come downstairs, Ruby wants a dance party.  I turn on her music, and she complains that she wants a video, too.  I turn on the camera, and, for some reason, it's not good enough.  Seriously, I can't figure out what else she wants, but she just sulks around whining unintelligible words and randomly yelling a random sentiment at me.

And then I cry again.  And I carry her up to bed, sing her a song, tell her I love her, and walk away.

Sometimes, being a mommy is a sucky job.  Sure, it's also got better highs than any other job in the world.  But today?  It's pretty low.