Children Are Out to Get Me

Its time I admitted the truth.

My children are out to get me.

There's simply no other explanation for it. The Princess, a year old, has been a howling beast all day. While part of me thinks its teething, I know that it has far more to do with the fact that Wolf is going straight to his 2nd job tonight, and won't be home before bedtime. She knows that Mommy isn't going to have back up anytime soon, so she's being as difficult as possible to make me crazy.

Taz at two and a half...Well, he's having potty issues. He loves to go naked, but there's something offensive about his bare hiney gracing a potty seat, or the toilet. Apparently, its contrary to his sense of nonconformity, and he'd rather use a diaper or the floor. That's assuming I can wrestle him into a diaper, because the carpet strongly appeals to his sense of anarchy. I personally think he just enjoys seeing what colour Mama's face can turn today.

Then there's The Diva. Darling eight year old Diva. There's nothing like claiming that "I did clean up my painting!" in an indignant, injured, and persecuted tone befitting Cinderella, or one of the pyramid building slaves while I'm pointing directly at the new multicoloured hue of my kitchen table. The constant refrain of "Can I..." emitting from her mouth is enough for me to go looking for a job opportunity at the nearest traveling circus. The child would be right at home on one of those PBS telethons, because she's constantly begging for something or another, and its always going to involve me spending copious amounts of money.

I'd simply give in, but I'd be afraid to go to sleep then. Or more afraid anyways. There's a part of me secretly convinced that the children have midnight meetings to devise their plans for the next day. Every now and then, I catch them giving one another this look, and then something bad happens. How they've figured out to rope The Princess in on the deal is beyond me, but she's one of their favourite weapons.

You know, if I'd stuck to raising tomatoes...you can eat tomatoes. Or fish. If they get to be a pain in the backside, you can flush fish. Nooooooooooo, I had to have kids.

Taz just pulled the biggest weapon of all out. Came over, gave me a big smooch and hug, and chirped, "Yuv you, Mama"

Back to the trenches...