Saturday, December 6, 2008

It's The Most Wonderful Time of The Year

Maybe at your house.

Something has been amiss at our house in the past couple of weeks and I'd like a full refund, please. It started with Brother. He started getting just a bit grouchy the week before Thanksgiving and we chalked it up to the Plague that has taken over our house for the last six weeks straight. Since then, he's been a ball of frustration. He gets angry with us for just about everything we say or do and the whining is constant.

Did you hear me? I said CONSTANT. As in, never ending. In case you didn't know the meaning of constant.

This week, our darlings decided that they were ready for Phase 2 of Drive Your Parents to Drink, otherwise known as Backtalk Phase. No matter what we say, there is a rebuttal from the five and under set. It doesn't even have to make sense. Let's say I tell the kids we're having cinnamon rolls for breakfast. One of them will likely say, "I don't want cinnamon rolls!" When pressed further on what they do want, you may get something like, "I want cinnamon rolls! I don't know why you never let me have cinnamon rolls!"

I won't lie and tell you that these things didn't happen at our house before this DYPTD (see above) Mission, but they were at least less common. Big Daddy and I have looked at each other eleven times in the last four days shaking our heads in wonder. We want to know who swapped our kids with a couple of Scrooges?

If you read this post about the Christmas tree debate, I'll first tell you that we did get a live tree and it's up. It's also beautiful. If you read the comments to that post and saw Sharon's beautiful memories of tree hunting and putting up, you're likely to think that's what it was like for us.

You are likely to be wrong.

By the time we were done, I was frustrated and hoping that next year will be the first real memory that my children will have of putting up our Christmas tree. I don't want them sitting around at my house with their own children twenty years from now sharing memories like, "Remember that year when we were putting up the tree and Mom kept yelling and then her eyes turned red and her head spun around? Yeah, that was fun."

If you happen to know the secret to getting my real kids back, I'm willing to try almost anything. Unless you tell me it would involve putting up another tree.


  1. I can't help but smile at this post... but in no way do I diminish your pain! Barry and I spent the weekend in New Hampshire with Audrey, Jane, Keith and their families (Keith had put his name in a lottery this summer and won the "right" to purchase 12 tickets on The Polar Express). The ride to the North Pole was Friday night... and we all had a WONDERFUL time. Yesterday, I went with Audrey and her family to Santa's Village (also in New Hampshire). We had a WONDERFUL time. On the way home, Alexander, who is 3, turned to me and said, "I don't love Mommy anymore." Being the wise Grandma and all, I answered, "But why?"

    Alex then said, "Mommy doesn't love me. She is mean."

    OK. I assured him that Mommy did love him and that she wasn't mean. He wasn't buying my line of goods. Neither Audrey nor I can figure out the "mean" stuff... but I do know that kids keep you thinking. All of the time. And then some.

    Just remember... this will pass. It always does. This is guarantee!!

  2. I look at Hunter from time to time and wonder where the pod person came from. No more is he the sweet little boy from before. I get eye rolls, groans and the wonderful muttering under the breathe.

    I know it is just a phase, but I can't wait for it to be over!!!

  3. I completely sympathize. Whining, complaining, arguing...I wish I could find words of encouragement, but maybe just knowing that you are not alone will help.

    Hugs girl,