Dear Beloved Children:
I love you more than life itself. You are the apples of my twitching eyes. The wind beneath my sleep-deprived-barely-functioning wings.
I don’t know what I would do without you in my life (sleep, eat hot food that does not have a single chicken nugget in it, pee alone, shower AND do my hair, read an entire book in a weekend, clean the house once instead of 50 times, walk around without stepping on a Barbie shoe…)
But we’ve got to have a little chat, because you are driving Mommy bat shit crazy, my sweet little cherubs.
Oldest One: I know your position sucks. You always have the expectation of being the responsible one on your shoulders, and that’s a tough burden to bear. I know from personal experience as I am also the oldest sibling. But if you coming running to me whining at the top of your very loud lungs one more time about some shit one of your little sisters pulled on you, I’m going to lose my mind. No one can control those little monsters, so you’re just gonna have to learn to deal buttercup.
Middle One: I know that you feel lost because you are stuck between your sisters. Or at least that’s what Google says about middle children. But changing your drink order from milk to orange juice 10 times every morning drives me crazy. Your big sister’s whining over you constantly stealing her shit drives me crazy. And I don’t blame the baby for sucker punching you after you pinched her neck for the billionth time despite me telling you over and over that NO ONE LIKES THAT. Get your attention from your imaginary friends and stop wreaking havoc on the rest of the household.
Youngest One: I know you think the world revolves around you because you’re cute and little, but it does not. It is not okay to scream at everyone just because you’re a baby; use your damn words. I know you understand me when I tell you to stop playing with the light switches; go bat your innocent looking baby blues at the grandparents, because I’m not buying that shit.
My children, I want to also remind you that you don’t actually need to tell me every single thought that runs through your little heads. I know when you were infants I would naively say, “Oh, I wonder what they’re thinking!” But now that there are 3 of you and you have the vocabulary of adults, I’ve come to realize that you all have a LOT running through your minds and it takes F O R E V E R for you to tell your stories. With the constant chatter, I can’t hear my own thoughts and it’s driving mommy mad. Please feel free to talk to one another if you can stop fighting long enough to have a conversation.
I’m sorry that you are out of clean underwear again. I kept trying to do laundry, but I actually can’t get any one thing done with all of you calling for me like I’m Cinderella. You call for me so many times that my thoughts get interrupted. The oldest one’s request will come while I’m fulfilling the middle one’s request and the youngest one will interrupt the oldest one with her own request, all while new baby is kicking my full bladder. Repeat this sequence 100 times every day and it’s a wonder I haven’t run out of the house screaming like a banshee.
Oh, and by the way–you’re hungry again because you didn’t eat the dinner I slaved over for an hour. So no, I will not get you something else to eat. You will not in fact starve to death, because I saved your unwanted dinner. It’s wrapped up on the counter. I will not warm it up; if you wanted it hot, you should have eaten it at dinner time. I finally finished the dishes and have an appointment with the couch and Diana Gabaldon. Eat dinner or come caca.
In short my sweetums: Mommy is grumpy. I am horribly outnumbered and you all are horribly needy. I yell because you don’t seem to hear me otherwise. I cry because I’m sleep deprived. I drink wine to keep from strangling you. I know you wish I wasn’t so grumpy all the time, but this is the mom you have been given. I love you with all of me and would never change you for anything.
But please, for the love of my sanity–go play outside. And don’t mind me when I lock the door behind you.