Allow me to temper the rest of this post with the following statement: I love my children more than life itself. They truly are great kids and I can't imagine a life without them, they make me laugh every day. That being said...
Is it wrong to yell "So long assholes!" as they get on the bus? Spring Break was actually fairly manageable, we had visitors most of the week and went on some adventures, so the bulk of the week went relatively smoothly. It was those in between times...the time after 5pm but before bedtime...the times when I'm not heeding their beck and call...the times when I have said for the 368th time that day, "Please keep your hands OFF YOUR BROTHER!"...when I wanted to point the minivan (megafun!) west, alone, and just keep on gettin' it, stopping only for beer/soda/smokes/crack or to let my imaginary yellow lab out for a pee stop. (Hey, it's my fantasy, why not have a road dog and a crack habit?))
Wednesday night truly was like Thunderdome, I was sure one of my daughters was not going to make it out alive. Frankly, the odds were split even on which one it would be. Madeline is strong but she wimps out at the drop of a hat, Anna is weaker (for now) but I'm pretty sure she has an unlimited threshold for pain. You name it, they fought over it. Sleeping arrangements, seating for meals, who was looking at who, who was annoying who (both winners in this category!), bathing first, which bathroom to use, but my tipping point came when they were about to come to blows over who loved Joey more.*
Really? We want to punchasize each others faces over love? Let me solve this one for you. I love him more. Your love is weak compared to the love of a mother. Your love for your brother is like poking him in the eye compared to my love. So suck on that. And then they joined forces against the common enemy... me. Later I actually heard them in Madeline's room talking about how weird I was, and there was peace in the land. It only lasted the night, but I'll take it.
I clearly remember the day my sister and I decided to stop fighting because we needed to band together to deal with our mother, however that day didn't come until MUCH later for us (think ages 22 and 18) and the word "menopause" may have been the catalyst. (I'm just sayin', that's some scary shit there.)
I'm happy to see my kids having the occasional glimmer of camaraderie, even if it is against me. Not as happy as I was when they went to school this morning, but happy none the less.
*It was an understandable argument, the boy is awesome.
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