The boys came home this evening, and in 30 minutes flat, my apartment looked like a war zone. I wish I had thought to take pictures of the complete chaos. There were mountains of wrapping paper, boxes, ribbons, bows, children, and assorted unwrapped gifts everywhere. And, in the midst of all the mess, B yells, "Let's play TWISTER!"
So, we did. And it's a funky version of Twister, if I do say so myself. On the spinner, there's a purple dot that requires the players to stick their hand/feet in the air until the next spin. Another dot allows the spinner to create their own move, i.e. "Pat your head 3 times with your left hand." before spinning again. It. Is. A. Pain. And when B is the spinner, he takes f-o-r-e-v-e-r to make up his mind on what he wants us to do.
After we played several rounds of Twister, getting increasingly louder and thump(ier) with each round, the boys started picking at each other. Actually, they were doing that before Twister, and I must say...I was pretty disappointed that they hadn't even been around each other for 2 hours before it started. It's so frustrating as a parent to watch your kids fight nonstop, to know that somewhere (really deep down, it would seem) that they really do love each other, but not knowing if or when that love for each other will ever surface.
By the time they were in bed, after a train wreck of a Skype session with my sister and arguments galore, I was in the kitchen questioning why I even came home from Houston. Truthfully, I'd rather still be there right now. The fighting and the yelling and the hitting and the just being crappy to each other is a total beat down. I have tons of friends with kids who are the roughly the same distance apart in age, and never hear of the issues that I face on a daily basis.
And it makes me wonder if I'm doing something wrong. If, being in a single parent household, where the parent is a female, is adding to the problem. I'm not the most patient person in the world, and it seems to be further exacerbated by the boys and their equally short fuses. Sometimes it feels like we're living inside a tiny time bomb...and there are regular mini-explosions just to let us know the big one is on the horizon. If there were someone (even slightly more calm than I am) around to help diffuse the issues, would it be better? Who knows, but they're stuck with me, so God help us.
We had a powwow after my mom left tonight, and I tried to explain to them, as calmly as I could, that we're all each other has over here. B was quick to jump in saying he had his dad and stepmom, but I explained that they don't live here. (Thank the Lord for that, okay?) We are a family, and while they are a part of our family, they're like some kind of branch, while our family is the trunk. It was completely insightful...until B asked if he could climb us.
Why do I even bother?
Meanwhile, N (who's decided he wants to become more healthy and exercise more) has been griping for the last 45 minutes about how he needs a snack. I explained that eating this late at night isn't a good choice, and he blatantly ignored me, muttering about french fries and granola bars and other food-related items under his breath.
I'm so glad he already has the grumpy old man thing down. It'll save him some time later on in life.
I threw three bags of wrapping paper/trash down the stairs and 4 boxes crammed full of the remnants of Christmas presents. The trash guys are going to love me tomorrow morning. I'm staring at our Christmas tree now, dreading taking it down. It still smells wonderful...but I'm also kind of anxious to get my living room back to normal. Right now, part of the living room is in my room, and I'm tired of tripping over it.
Also on my "to do" list? Grocery shopping (milk is a necessity, as are hot cocoa K cups) and finishing this dang "Quilting Santa" puzzle. Oh, and hooking up the Xbox to save my sanity, if that's even possible at this point.
All signs point to "No."
Aubs
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