The kids are alright…only when they’re not.
What is it with kids and their innate ability to seek out our weaknesses as parents and destroy? I swear on my life that my son has a meter buried deep within that tells him when to act out, when to make a mess and when to talk back.
He was born with this ability, I swear. He is the only person on the face of this planet that can get under my skin and rip my energy to shreds. And of course, on those special days of hell the baby feeds off that energy as well and creates an even bigger whorl of misery.
All that happiness, all that cuteness, all that heart-warmingness that a child can bring one day…can be replaced by the devil himself the next.
95% of the time I am the Hunter. I am in charge. I am aggressive and I am boss.
5% of the time I am the Hunted.
Thankfully, my meter points mostly towards the Hunter. Except in special and unique occasions that is.
Like, when I’m pregnant. Or when I’m not feeling well.
Add those two ingredients together and…BAM! My life, well it sucks.
I call my husband desperately every half hour, I leave the television on all day and feed the kids whatever it is they want to eat. “You want popcorn for breakfast? Done!”
But then…like a lion stalking its prey-I get better and pounce on those damn heathens before they know what hit them. The house is whipped back into shape, the kids actually get fed real food and their hineys get smacked for calling me a neenieheadedboogiemonster for the 15th time.
What is the worst you’ve let your kids get away with while you were sick?