Yesterday I put out on Twitter: Parenting: The intersection of “I love you so much!” and “I find you so incredibly irritating!”
The ying-yanginess of it all just sometimes gets to me.
I wish I could spend more time with the kids individually, but they are both at home for most of the afternoon, most afternoons during the week, and it wears on all of us. They are sometimes the best of friends, but sometimes just get on each others’ nerves.
Neither has learned the magic art of “leaving well enough alone”–e.g., if AM is entertaining himself with his cars, not needing anything from anyone, Miss M will suddenly drift to where he is. When he sees her, he demands (or sometimes asks politely) to play. She demurs. He gets pissy and winds up either throwing a tantrum or physically attacking her in some way. Then my head explodes, because what the hell was she doing there in the first place?
But alone? They’re great people.
Miss M has a head full of stories and “great ideas!” As long as you’re not anxious to get anywhere in a timely fashion she is a hoot.
AM is like a minature adult–he was complaining of a backache for a few days (because 5 is the new 55, apparently), so this morning I took him to the doctor. But first we went to the grocery store, where he held the list, put in the cheese order, and insisted on unloading the cart on to the belt. Then we split a cappuccino and an almond croissant. In the waiting room, he wound up playing Connect 4 with some kid he didn’t know. (Um. Extrovert much?) He’s getting dangerously close to understanding sarcasm. Which will be very fun, when it happens.
It’s just that every afternoon I want to run screaming from my house. And I know their interactions are normal, and that when the chips are down they are good together, it’s the day-to-day-to-day that makes me want to hide in my room until bedtime. You know, “I love you, but please go away.”