Today was it, guys. Actually, it started last night. Smalls kept crying in the middle of the night. After the second time I put him in bed with us. Which means I spent the rest of the night and next morning with him perpendicular to me in bed with his hard ass head wedged in my boobs. Lovely.
Biggie came in after daylight because he had an accident. He changed and got into bed with me. Dading had already left for work (I’m working from home, he’s working every other day at the office). When we finally get up Smalls has wet OUR bed. So now I’m washing sheets like we’ve got a headlice epidemic. The dog puked on my new rug. Maybe the kids are making him sick. I can relate.
Cue the usual sibling fighting, Smalls fighting me to go poop on the potty, and then the straw that breaks this mama’s back- Biggie LIED to me.
He tells me his brother got into my pens and is writing on my work boxes. I go upstairs to see toddler scribbles, along with the first two letters of Biggie’s name. If you’re going to lie to me, you little shit, at least cover it up better and don’t tag your graffiti with your own name.
They got sent to their rooms, Biggie lost his shit. Like if anyone is entitled to lose their shit around here it’s me, tyvm. I called Dading crying that I had had enough and needed him to come home.
So yeah. I’m tired y’all. I’m frustrated with kids acting out even when I understand their reasons and wish I could extinguish their boredom. I’m tired of the fighting and the ear shattering screaming that never stops. I’m tired of someone needing something from me every goddamn minute of every day. Did I mention I was tired?
Check on your friends with small children. We may not be doing virtual school, but we are in the toddler trenches and it’s getting ugly down here.