The screaming and fit throwing started at 0600 with Ollie losing his shit because I dared to cut his peanut butter and jelly toast into four pieces instead of leaving it “big.”
Then his sister stumbled into the living room and she lost it for some other reason. Tucker intervened and turned a bit scary. He was all pissed off at the kids and I was pissed off at the kids and then some of the pissedoffedness–I made that up. Proud?–leaked out and we snapped at each other. In the end, it hardly seemed worth all the trouble.
You know I stay home with the kids. I do it to save us money and I also do it because I don’t want someone else to take care of my kids. I’m not being an ass to the parents who have their kids in daycare; this is just a personal choice Tucker and I made. However, this morning? Bring on the freakin’ daycare. And I’m not joking. Daycare? Why are you?!
If you haven’t already puzzled it out, we’re having a major problem with Cara. And since we’re having a major problem with Cara, we’re also having a major problem with Ollie since dude does everything his sister does.
“I’m not touching that dinner! It’s gross!” she’ll shriek. I’ll bet you money her brother will quickly pipe up with a similar statement. What sucks is I microwaved lovingly prepared broccoli, cheese and rice last night and the second Cara saw it, she refused to eat it; Ollie followed suit. Actually, that’s not the part that sucked. The part that sucked was all they had for dinner was grapes.
They made their choice and I was determined to not feel bad for them but a bit of guilt snuck in there. Did I give them something different? Nope. Did I feel like I had done my parental duty and taught my kids some sort of life changing lesson? Not even close.
Cara’s mood swings are epic, she blows on her hands now–which annoys the hell out of me–and she does this wrestling move thing were her brother will be on the floor and she jumps on him with her knees when she’s pissed off at him.
FYI, two of my greatest injury fears when it comes to the kids are internal bleeding and internal skull bleeding. You can’t see either of them and they’ll both kill you. When push comes to shove, I’ll take a cut off finger any day–though I’ll probably puke. Knees in the abdomen could cause internal bleeding. And that’s the obvious sentence of the day.
Ollie isn’t without blame in all of this. He has these EPIC come aparts where he rolls around the floor and screams–He knows he gets a spanking when he screams like that.–and does the annoying terrible twos shit. Cara, in all her annoying fits, never did the terrible twos thing. She’s always been opinionated and a bit rude but she generally could/can be reasoned with. Ollie? Not. So. Much.
At this point, the kids are watching Billy the Exterminator–Cara’s obsessed and I’m considering writing an email to Billy.–and if Ollie isn’t passed out in the floor, he’s damn close. The apartment is an absolute wreck. If Tucker brought someone home without notice, I would push them right back out.
I’m officially declaring Wednesday bankruptcy. I ordered pizza and I hope Tucker doesn’t read this while he’s at work since the pizza is supposed to be a surprise. I bought him beer, as well, because I got a payment in from AdSense. It’s amazing what a niche blog can do for the pocketbook. Thank you, Sims3Gamer.com.
We’re at a total loss as to what to do about the kids. We don’t think they have issues where they need to go talk with someone but we’re out of ideas.
The plan is to head to Barnes and Noble on Sunday and peruse the kid/parenting section with hopes of finding a magical book to help us with this very trying time in the wonders of parenting. This time is also known as parenting hell/please-save-us-we-don’t-know-what-the-hell-to-do!