Posted by: dinainsuburbia | May 12, 2010

but…mom…

Yes, my dear readers, that’s right.. Maddie has learned the expression that will haunt me for the REST of my parental existence, “but.. mom”.

She uses it constantly; whenever I say “no” to anything, she pleads her “case” with a “but…mom”.  She actually baits me into a discussion/rationalization of why I say no.

Now, I do feel slightly bad… ever since Joel’s arrival I have been saying “no” a lot more than normal (or no’s cousin, not right now)- and this has more than likely caused the increase in frequency of the “but.. mom”- and it is driving me crazy.

It’s actually pretty funny- my mom witnessed it this morning and it went something like this:

Maddie:  Mom, I want to wear my church necklace.

Me:  No, Maddie.  Not today.  The last time you wore it you took it off and it almost got lost and it is expensive.

Maddie:  But Mom, I really want to wear it.

Me:  I said no

Maddie:  But Mom, I really wanted to show it to my grandmother (yes, that is how she talks, I’m not exaggerating).

Me:  Grandma has already seen it

Maddie:  But mom, I really want it.

Me:  No

Maddie:  don’t say no Mom.

Me:  I already said no, the end.

Maddie: don’t say the end, mom.

Me:  I already said the end, goodbye

Maddie:  don’t say goodbye mom

As you can see- this whole “but mom” thing has really drawn out the whole process.  I feel bad ignoring her, and really it is sort of impossible because she talks ALL THE TIME- enough to drive me absolutely CRAZY… sometimes I really don’t think my brain can take it.. Maddie’s incessant chatter and then Joel whining/complaining because I put him down and he doesn’t. want. to. be. put. down. ever.

This whole parent of two thing is so completely hard and I want to thank God for not granting my prayer right away and making me wait to get pregnant with number two because Sweet Jesus if, say, Maddie was younger than she is, I don’t think I would be able to handle it.

It is especially hard on those three-day stretches when John is out of town.  The other night Joel wanted to eat and Maddie wanted to eat at the same time.  I put Joel down who started to bitch (because he doesn’t. want. to. be. put. down. ever.) so I rushed and got his food together and fed him, but then Maddie was all whining and crazy because she was hungry and she wanted to eat too.  So of course, I told her about eighty-million times in the ten minutes it took to feed Joel that as soon as I was done I’d get her taken care of, but that wasn’t good enough because she. wanted. to. eat. right. now.

When the dinner emergency was taken care of, Maddie wanted to take a bath and I had to make it “deep like Grandma’s”… (of course, the “fun one” fills the tub to biblical-flood proportions).. and while I was doing this I put Joel down on my bed, but you know what happened.. so I spent the next 10 minutes running between the bathroom and my room to make one happy and then the other.. and I wondered to myself, why do I feel like I need to go to the gym when I don’t get to sit down for hours on end?

On top of it, we have the stupid animals that, I’m sure, do nothing but think of new ways to piss me off.   For example, Fortune has just decided that the 5-gallon Poland Spring bottles were his new indoor trees and, therefore, completely suitable to start pissing on.  The problem is the piss somehow gets under the bottle.. and then I smell the piss, but can’t exactly  SEE it.  So now, added to my morning routine is checking under the Poland Spring bottles to find and then clean piss.

One of the cats has decided that going INTO the litter box is too much work, and that peeing on it (actually somehow UNDER it) is a much better idea.  Now before you tell me to clean the box, I swear to you that it’s clean.  I actually cleaned it this morning and did a piss check- lets see what happens when I get home.

And while it was annoying when Morton started meowing for breakfast at 6:00am, he decided THAT wasn’t good enough and decided to wage an epic cat-fight with Maca in my bedroom and woke up me, AND the two kids.  As revenge, I bashed him with the Iams Cat Food bag before I fed him.

Two kids, two cats, and two dogs.. that’s two species too many, and I’m not talking about the kids… anyone want a cat? or two?

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Responses

  1. Oh Jesus. Maybe I will stay at just one–or wait for #2 until #1 is in college.

    Are you sure it’s one of the cat’s pissing outside the litter box? I think Fred lifts his leg on the litter box. Maybe Fortune’s pissing on that, too.


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