Our time with our children is precious, both in importance and in brevity. So every minute that we spend with them we want to truly enjoy. And then we have evenings like this one.
We had enough leftovers from prior meals that we didn't have to make a dinner, just reheat some plates and eat. So we were done eating surprisingly early, giving us more time together for fun. Wayne decided to pull out the Hungry Hungry Hippos game, which all four of us could play.
So we played together for about 3 minutes, until Marissa came over and sat on my lap. She did this in order for me to smell her and understand that she had a poop and needed to be changed. So I took her upstairs to change her.
Now for most people that's a 3 minute ordeal. But not with Marissa.
While I hear Wayne and Lindsey downstairs, playing away with just the two of them, she and I head upstairs. She brings with her some tennis shoes she'd worn over the weekend. As we get up to her room, she dumps out the approximately 2 pounds of sand that was in them, all over her floor. Great.
So I grind sand into her wood floor as I change her diaper, and then put her in front of the bathroom sink to wash her hands while I vacuum up the sand. Then as I'm putting away the vacuum, I see the water on its way out of the bathroom, into the hallway. Yes, she has dumped water all over the bathroom, so much so that it is escaping down the hallway.
What comes to my mind is, "Frickin' frackin' diddly whoppin' why do I get to spend all my effin' time cleaning up after this little twit, I'd rather be playing with her than picking up after every bleepin' mess she makes..."
[Note: Due to the high moral standards of some family members who I know read this, I have censored the above thought process. Hi Millie, hi Mom.]
Instead what I say is, "No no Marissa! Now help Mommy clean this up."
Some day I am going to explode. We parents cannot possibly hold in all of the frustration that we withhold from our childrens' ears without someday letting it all out.
I think I need to take up kick boxing.
A final footnote, by the time I made it back downstairs from cleaning up Lindsey had lost interest in Hungry Hungry Hippos and it was almost time to start a bath for the two peanuts anyway. Another evening shot to hell. Sigh...