January 30, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
If you don’t know where the title of this post comes from, I am going to slap you with a fish.
Anyways, I am doing my utmost to maintain a cheery disposition, despite the fact that I am profoundly exhausted and slightly hormonal. I have optimism down to an obnoxious science about ninety-nine-point-forty-four-percent of the time. But there is that point-fifty-six-percent that gets me every time. Today was in the point-fifty-six-percent range, thanks to children who were grumpy the moment their feet touched the ground from their bus. I am not sure they were any more or less annoying then they are on a regular basis, but I am fairly certain I exclaimed to my friend on the phone (later, when they were hopefully out of earshot so I do not damage their young little psyches) that I hated children, wanted to quit my job and want to trade mine in for new models.
Once dinner was served I felt calmer. I am not quite certain if it was my husband’s presence (he tends to calm things down when I am riled up) or the fact that the children were happy to see him and therefore, better behaved, but things did improve. When there are five children running around my house for three hours it is difficult to maintain my usually happy face. Not to mention the fact that Polite Boy was doing his best Middle Child impersonation (loud, rude, sulky, etcetera), Middle Child was behaving (I am still not sure what she was up to, but I welcome any day where I do not have to hold her back from hurting me or another child) and Little Miss was her usual cute and charming (and slightly ditsy) self. It was MY CHILDREN that I wanted to maim. As in, my Bugaboo, who cannot keep his hands off of pasta or rice or beans or lentils or…anything small and stim-worthy. I was even making dinner this evening and he grabbed a handful of the rice I HAD JUST RINSED and tossed it. Grrrrr. I measured it for a reason, Bugaboo! That’s Basmati, you little IMP! The pasta jars are well-hidden, as are any dry food that he will surely toss onto my family room rug. The dang dog was being uber lazy and wouldn’t eat a dang thing. Danggit.
Please, someone tell me why the heck I want to have another child? Is it a momentary lapse of judgment or the most convenient temporary amnesia? Oh, and the whole bleeding thing. Right. Can’t have more. Sigh. Must be the biological clock. Or I’m bipolar like half of my family. Or I’m just a glutton for punishment.
I love my kids, really. I love my job. I do not want to hurt anyone, so don’t call Social Services, mmkay? I guess the schedule as of late really just is not conducive to what I need. I need to work out three days a week, do shopping all by my lonesome and get a decent amount of sleep. And I also need to stop procrastinating, because last time I checked, my laundry is not going to grow legs, fold itself, put itself into the proper piles and then put itself in the dressers. Because if laundry could do that it would scare me.