It’s been 7 days since my kids were in any type of camp setting and I just hit my limit. The constant bickering, and competition, the “he hit me’s” and “no, he hit me firsts”, the insolence, the taunting, the name calling, the unbearable heat, the tattling, the fact that leaving the house takes 45 fucking minutes every time because no one can ever find socks – while I spend every waking hour washing and folding and putting away laundry like some younger and more surely version of Alice from the Brady Bunch.
I just snapped.
I just broke.
It wasn’t pretty.
Not only wasn’t it pretty it probably was a bit scary as well. Today was not my best mommy moment and I might not be proud of my meltdown, but I’m also not ashamed. These kids, the loves of my life, my DNA flowing through their veins at warp speed, need to understand that I might be an adult, but I’m not a machine. Mommy has feelings too and mommy can only be pushed so far before she lets out a scream.
Tonight, we have dinner plans out with our extended family. Tomorrow, a baptism for my beautiful niece, and on Monday I am planning to drive 1200 with these little assholes on a trip to see my parents. Without their father. I know, I know. I’m insane.
So yeah, I might currently be about 2 cookies short of a bakers dozen but at least I got it off my chest. I do feel a bit better calling them out on their bullshit and explaining to them that although I love them with every fiber of my being I didn’t become a parent to deal with the ridiculous shit they are currently doling out on me. Even as I’m writing this they are both coming to me and offering hugs and apologies.
But this isn’t about being sorry.
And I told them so.
These guys are brothers, not sworn enemies, and the sooner they figure that out the better.
But I’m not holding my breath.