Find more Wordless Wednesday posts HERE.
Find more Wordless Wednesday posts HERE.
As horrible as I feel putting that title in writing, it's a little true sometimes. I adore my children. They are magnificent, and I'd MUCH rather deal with the frustrations of raising them than to return to the sadness of not having them. But this constant whining is making me want to run away some days. As a matter of fact, I did run away one day a couple of weeks ago. I just asked Hubby if he was OK with them and picked up my keys and walked out the door. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know when I was returning. I just knew that they were much better off without me at the moment. I had met my limit. No...I had gone just past my limit. And I didn't want to be that mommy.
I've been googling stuff about whining...its causes...possible solutions. Know what I've found? Diddly squat. No one has a real solution. And that ticks me off supremely. What good is the internet if I can't find an immediate answer to my big problem?!?! Once again...Al Gore...thanks for nothing!
Here is something really funny that someone wrote about whining. "Picture yourself as a Las Vegas slot machine," says veteran mom Lisa Levi. "Your child pulls the lever and pulls the lever again. One win — even after 12 losses — will show him that a slot machine is a good bet for making money, and that's not what you want him to learn." Well, of course not! But some days I just can't take it, and I cave. Maybe I could ignore one whining preschooler. But three of them? It's downright deafening sometimes.
Do any of you have any fabulous words of wisdom on the topic? Please? Anyone?
Yep, she was standing about 10 feet from me tonight in the front yard. I was trying to get another plant in the ground as the sun was quickly setting. I heard what I thought was my next-door neighbor walking up behind me. We had been talking just minutes earlier and I figured he had something to add to the topic. When I turned around, said neighbor was already inside his house for the night. The doe was just standing there. I apparently scared her as much as she did me, because she ran off between our houses into the backyard.
I'm sure she'll be back to snack on my flowers. Grrr... And then she'll digest my flowers and poop in my yard. Lovely.
From the video archives...
Snap and Split discovering their matching belly buttons. Sweet Pea makes a cameo appearance at the end of the clip. She's in la-la land...playing with her fingers. They are about 15 months old in this video.
Split: Mommy, I mad. I serious at Snap. He take my book and I serious at him.
Me: Honey, what do you mean? Serious? Is that what you're trying to say?
Split: Serious! I serious at my brudder. He not nice.
Me: Oh...do you mean furious?
Split: Yes. I serious at him.
Nana: Fff...fff...furious. Can you say it like that?
Split: Fff...fff...syphilis.
Me: Umm...nope. Let's just go back to "serious."
Nana: Yes, let's.
But this news bit has really freaked me out. That's it...no more laundry for me. Hubby better kick it up in this department if we're going to have clean clothes from now on.
Snap Pea: mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy. hey mommy, mommy, hey mommy, hey mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy...
(deep breath) Me: Yes, sweetie?
No response. Snap is busy with a toy now. I return to what I was doing.
Snap: mommy, hey mommy, mommy, mommy, hey, look at me mommy, mommy, mommy, hey hey hey, mommy, mommy...
He is now standing outside my bathroom door. I can't even get a moment's peace on the potty.
Snap: mommy, mommy, hey mommy, mommy guess what, mommy, mommy, hey mommy, look mommy, mommy...
And then he gets more specific and downright unreasonable.
Snap: mommy make a balleweena wiff this band-aid mommy, hey mommy, and please make a pwincess wiff this sock, mommy, hey mommy, please do that for me. OK? You do that?
Me: Honey, I can't possibly make a ballerina from a band-aid or a princess from a sock. I'm sorry, but you'll have to figure something else out to play.
Snap: But mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy a'course you can do it...you haffa twy. I want them. I really, really want them.
Me: I'm sorry pumpkin. I really, really want world peace and a million dollars (yes, I realize these things mean absolutely positively squat to a 3-year old)...but sometimes the answer is just NO.
Snap: Oh, sorry.
And as he walks away...
But you just haffa twy. Maybe next time mommy.
I have to admit...it's kinda' nice to know he has that much faith in my abilities, though. Maybe next time I'll just try.
Split is over Kitchen Alligucci. He announced at lunch yesterday that he doesn't like her anymore. He has moved on. New girlfriend?
Hammah Natana.
Her's bootiful.
First of all...I don't even know how he knows about Hannah Montana. They've never watched it. And now I'm thinking potty-training is the least of my concerns with this wild parenting experience. If he moves this quickly as a 3-year old, I have a feeling the teenage years are going to be quite an adventure around here.
We heard this name about a 734,128 times (but who's counting?) yesterday. Split would NOT hush about his new "girlfriend." I love Kitchen Alligucci, Mommy. Her my new girlfriend. I love her. Do you love her, Mommy? Daddy love her? We could not figure out where he came up with that very unique name. Usually his "girlfriends" are teenage girls from our church (he and Snap have many...little players that they are).
Here are the clues we gathered from him.
Her's really, really pretty.
Her gots a lotta lotta long hair.
Her dance really, really good.
Her loves to skate wiff me sometimes.
I see her in magazine one day.
So...we finally figured out he was talking about Kristi Yamaguchi. He had asked Daddy to cut out a picture of her that was in an old TV Guide magazine several weeks ago (the picture was from Dancing With the Stars, I think) and Daddy told him what her name was. Split Pea's steel-trap memory held onto (sort of) that mouthful of a name all this time.
What a silly goose he is.