I'm so sorry, dear peeps, but you'll just have to bear with me as I get some things off my chest.
And another thing about my kids in the house here lately... the radio and TV. First, every flipping TV in the house stays on all the time. There's no point in turning any of them off; as soon as I do, one of the kids' little power usage radar thingies in their brain detects a change in electrical flow in the house, locates the TV that has been turned off, and promptly returns it to its appropriate state - ON. And I do believe that David has hearing issues. For one, the doctor will ask me from time to time when looking in his ears if her has recurring ear infections as a baby, so that must mean that things don't look quite right in there. And the other reason that makes me believe he already should be fitted for a hearing aide is the decibel level at which he listens to the TV and radio. It's really quite unbelievable. The worst part of it is that he'll turn the TV or radio on in his room - at a level which the neighbors could enjoy - and then go downstairs to do something else. I can't hear myself think or the TV program I'm trying to watch, and David is nowhere around to even listen to whatever it is he had to turn up so dadgum loud.
In case anyone can't tell, my kids are getting on my nerves a little here lately. After the sentimental post last weekend about Madalyn, it may seem that a demon has run in and possessed my heart. But none of that's going on... they just drive me crazy sometimes. I just feel that I'm losing the battle every now and then. I try so hard to teach them respect and courtesy, even to the point of feeling I'm too hard on them sometimes and expect too much. And then to see such a disregard for respect at home, with me or with each other, well, it's just disturbing. And frustrating.
It's hard to maintain my cool with David these days who wants to act more like I'm the kid and he's the parent. News flash - I've already been the child. David's turn is not up yet. Like today, for instance, while we were leaving Target where we had to pick up a few items, I headed a different direction than the way home. And here's what I get from Mr. David, all eight and a half years of wisdom and maturity under his belt...
"Oh, great. Where are we going now??"
Of course, I can't accurately depict his not-so-pleasant nor respectful tone, but I can surely tell you my reply.
"We're going where ever I want to go, David. So why don't you just sit back there and be eight years old and keep quiet."
Cause that's just it - you know? He's EIGHT. He doesn't get to get an attitude with me about where I need to go. He doesn't have the freedom to choose what we do and when we do and for how long. And he certainly hasn't earned the right to get a freaking attitude with me about ANYTHING. Just seems like he wants to bicker about everything here lately. He wants to put his two cents into every conversation I have with anyone around. He is constantly interrupting me while I'm on the phone to ask me what I'm talking about or who I'm referring to. It's just enough to drive me up the wall. It's as though he believes he's the man of the house when his father isn't around...
I've got news for the Little Mr. Blair. He is far from being the man of this house or any other house, for that matter. And if he'd like to see the day he is a man, he'd better start picking up his own darn trash, turning his radio down, and watching that little attitude of his. Just sayin'.
Okay - I think I've got it all out of my system now.