Snarky and Clueless

Sometimes I wonder when they will get a clue. I already know the answer but I ask it hypothetically to the universe in general and to my husband specifically. “WHEN WILL THEY GET A CLUE?!”

The answer is – 20 years from now when they have kids of their own and suddenly realize that I wasn’t just nagging them for my own amusement but was trying to teach them to be responsible citizens and often because I actually needed their help.

Today was a day spent working, working and being in pain, working and being in pain and begging, sometimes yelling at my kids to help me just the tiniest bit. I wasn’t asking them to polish the silver or wax the floors or give me a mani-pedi while I watched soaps. I was feeling the shooting pains as my ligaments pulled and expanded, limping on hips and a pelvis that may not hold up much longer under this kind of pressure, gagging with a sudden resurgence of morning sickness and working my butt off to clean the house. I was asking them to pick up their ratchen fratchen toys that covered the entire main floor. I was repeating myself over and over until even I was sick of the sound of my own voice.

At some point in the afternoon I considered changing Magoo’s name to some glass-shattering word from the mermaid dialect, anything that would cause him to show the slightest sign that he could hear it as it was coming out of my mouth. He is completely deaf to the sound of my voice unless my voice is whispering sweet nothings about chocolate, gummy worms or time for game play on the Wii.

But if I’m calling him, even yelling from as little as 3 feet away, he bounces along playing and making strange little man noises, giving me no notice at all. It seems like the worse I feel, the worse the deafness gets.

Laylee, on the other hand was willing to work on and off with very little coaxing or threatening but seemed intent on bullying and tormenting Magoo as she went, causing him to bawl and collapse and then come running to me once he’d regained his strength. I took my frustration out on them and they took theirs out on each other. It was a lovely afternoon.

Then Dan came home exhausted from work and I complained and whined and tattled on them like a spoiled child. So he took them off to bed. Last I heard, someone was crying. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Dan and I’m pretty sure it was in response to something like the threat of no stories if they didn’t pick up the pace a bit.

It’s days like this that make me glad we can reset overnight and start fresh in the morning. And maybe I won’t wake up 4 times tonight. And maybe I’ll feel better in the morning. And maybe they’ll decide they like me and each other. And maybe I just remembered there’s a chocolate bar in my purse. And maybe I’m done blogging now.

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