I finally figured out why I’m crazy. Like certifiably insane.
It’s rather simple. It’s because I’m a mother. A mother of two girls to be exact.
My emotions are a virtual rollercoaster every damn day. The reason for that is because my girls have the ability to make me angrier than Satan one minute and then melt my entire heart the next.
Last night was Banana’s birthday. Turns out right after school she got a fever of 101 and said her head and throat hurt. She was CUH-RABBY! I begged her to let us delay her bday cake and small party for another night when she felt better. She threw a fit with big, fat tears and everything.
Mother of the year right here, folks. I made my kid cry on her birthday. I can just hear her telling a therapist that in 20 years. “I turned 7 and my Mom tried to postpone my birthday!”…as the therapist gasps in horror!
After the fit, she fell asleep. Then she woke up and swore she still wanted to open her gifts (shocker). She opened all 3 and asked for more. Apparently she forgot the huge ass party and gifts she got a week ago! But because it’s wrong to strangle ungrateful little girls on their birthday – I walked away.
Then she wanted cake. I gave her cake. She hated the taste of the cake. So she wants a piece of pizza. Of which she takes one bite and says she’s full. Apparently my child has never heard about the starving kids in Ethiopia.
Meanwhile, Watermelon has had a scowl on her face since the moment she got home…no one knows why. Each time Rambo says ANYTHING to her – she stomps off down the hallway and bursts into tears.
By about the 5th time – being a man with a penis and no patience – Rambo is just pissed at her behavior. Says no way in hell is she going to the dance tomorrow night.
Commence more tears.
Now at this point – Rambo and I are in the kitchen alone. Seriously – our asses could be on Leave It To Beaver, right? NOT! Talk about dysfunctional.
Soooo not how I planned the fun birthday night.
I look in the living room to see Watermelon hand Banana a homemade card which Banana can now read on her own and my heart swells.
Later on when Banana is in bed resting I hear her say, “Sissy…come here.”
Then when Watermelon gets in there I hear her say, “Could you check on me every once in a while during the night since I have a fever.”
Watermelon bends down and kisses her and says, “Sure I can.”
Ugh – are these the same two spawns of Satan I wanted to lock in a closet an hour ago? I just don’t get it! I mean I have no experience in this. My brothers were evil and hated me ALL the time. 24/7. It was predictable and I knew what to do with it. This devil/angel crap my kids got going on is going to drive me over the edge.
So I decided to take a damn bath. After I told Rambo that he better get used to this shit because we have two emotional, hormonal, dramatic little girls and it’s only going to get worse and there doesn’t even have to be a reason. I also told him I have no idea where they got such tendencies (and ran from the room).
During the bath apparently, little Banana begged her Daddy to make her homemade air-popped popcorn. The kind out of a bag wouldn’t do. Turns out we had no butter so Rambo drove to the store to get his birthday girl some. The crabbier than hell fever-ridden seven year old – got her damn popcorn. And barely ate any of it.
When I turned the corner to the kitchen after my bath , I caught a glimpse of Rambo hugging Watermelon tightly and heard him say in his normal voice, “Stop being so crabby all the time, okay?” and voila! Watermelon was her old normal self the rest of the night. What the what?
I can’t effing keep up. I mean I have a hard time wrangling my own moods and emotions. How in the name of Jesus am I going to survive the next few years of parenting?
With a Xanax and Mountain Dew cocktail is how.
I think this is why animal mothers eat their young. Yes?