15 Months

From _lightroom3

This picture comes to you on a day where mama is out of patience.  How can this be you ask, they look so charming and lovely in their fall sweaters.  Those children are the picture of innocence and youthful exuberance.  Surely they can not derive such feelings from anyone, let alone their incredibly blessed mother.

You would be right.  Except that their mother is also very, very human.

And while the camera has caught a moment of happiness from G and a moment of confusion in Chalupa (why is mama roaring?) what the camera missed were the moments before the picture when Chalupa screamed to be held and then screamed when I held him and then screamed when I put his socks on and then screamed when I put his shoes on.  He screamed until he got outside actually.  And calling it a scream is a nice way to put it.  He shrieks with the strength of a thousand banshees behind him.  The youthful capacity of his lungs and his endless desire to communicate his wishes all combine in a whirlwind force so loud only dogs can hear it and it literally makes me want to throw my head against a wall.

His father gives in.  His father picks him up.  I at least wait until the shrieking is over so as to hope - in that vain way that moms do - that he will not learn that shrieking gets him what he wants even though it gets him exactly what he wants.

And then after the camera was put away and we were back in the house, out of our sweaters and playing with toys and watching Texas Tech rally against KU ... the camera missed G kicking his brother in the face.  And then kicking him in the legs.  None of this is understood to be truly mean of course, he just wants him away.  Well, dear boy, kicking is not the appropriate way to do that.  So then what?  Of course he pushes him.  Time out?  Oh sure.  I can do that.  I've done that.  Does it seem fruitful and productive?  No.  The three year old child has the temerity to know that time out is certainly not permanent and kicking his brother does the job.  Chalupa gets away from him.

I often feel I'm losing battles and that the children are beating me.  These small creatures who can barely count and one who can not speak are besting me.  It's humbling.

And today their father is golfing.

I do not begrudge him his time off he needs his time off away from work and away from us.  As you can read from the above we are very demanding.  And the children attack him as soon as he gets in the door (even the small one) and want to play and wrestle and throw balls and really just get a break from me.  I swear it they get tired of me.

But all that having been said today would have probably gone a lot smoother for me had I had back up.

And it wasn't particularly bad (she says now that both kids are asleep and she can breathe), I just get frustrated when I'm trying to do something and the kids are all needy.  Case in point, this morning I was reading the paper and G kept standing infront of the computer - and I know, I know, I know - he wants my attention.  I know I should be that perfect parent that they talk about in those annoying mom blogs with titles like "five things you can do that will immediately benefit your children" the first among them being get off the internet.  Oh yeah, perfect parent mom blog?  Reading the news is often the only adult stimulation I get all day.  Sometimes going through what political moves so and so was making is the only thing that keeps me from chucking it all out the window and just sitting in the corner singing the itsy bitsy spider for the 100th time, giving in to the kids completely and losing all of my adult conversation abilities.

Though - double edge sword - I'm one of the only people I know that do this.  What would be ideal, for me, was if somewhere there were other moms who did this that then wanted to meet for coffee to discuss what we'd read.  I used to have this - it's called a book club - but then everyone stopped reading the books.

Anyway so it's not a bad day, just an annoying one.  I hope to have more patience.  Some day.

From _lightroom3

They are fairly awesome.  I do know that.  And they are very, very good kids, if I do say so myself.  All kicking of ones brothers aside.  But did you ever hear of siblings that had not kicked each other at one point?  I think they are probably right on track.

They don't look like twins, right?  I hear this all. the. time.  Oh are they twins?  No.  No they are not twins.  Do you have eyes?  Or ears?  That one is talking and is about a foot taller than his brother.  That one is crying and whining and barely says mama, G****, dada and yea (he does say all those things - and the nursery heard cheerio the other day).  Granted, Chalupa probably has a bigger waist then G, and larger tushy.  But he's just built differently.  He's stockier.  He is strong.  And tough.  He falls down and hits his head or gets his fingers stomped on and doesn't make a peep.  G cries when the wind hits his hair wrong.

But they are not twins.  Right?  I mean G is clearly older.

From _lightroom3

Maybe in this picture I could see it if you were just skimming, not looking closely.  But ... well no not even then really?  My sister in law told me they looked like twins born two years apart.  Which confuses me.  Does that statement mean they look a lot alike, and I should not be offended, or does it imply that G is small?

I am very defensive of my kids.  Like all mamas.  But I'm maybe a little overboard.