Aside from my husband, the only consistent contact I have with an adult on a weekly basis is with my younger sister. She works part time and has 2 kids (ages 2 and 4). She has two days off a week and like me, climbs the walls in her house when she is left with “them” alone all day. Unlike me, she only has to do it twice a week, so I really don’t feel sorry for her at all. “Suck it up already. You get out three days a week. You are living the dream.”
All kidding aside, I truly look forward to the days that we can hang out together. She keeps me sane, and vice versa. In a perfect world, we would get together, throw our kids in the adjacent room to play, and then watch them giggle from afar while we sip our coffee and solve the world’s problems.
In an imperfect world (i.e. our reality), we spend three hours together not once having a real conversation because our children are literally incapable of getting along. It’s sad and frustrating and so f@*king annoying. They are annoying. Not the little one. She is a devil, but cute and harmless. The boys on the other hand would both benefit greatly from a real spanking. Yep, I said it…the “S word”. (If only it was 30 years ago…). Instead, they spend the majority of the morning in a “time out” which is clearly not an effective form of punishment, given the fact that upon release from their separate corners of the house they are immediate repeat offenders.
The irony of the situation is that my son absolutely loves my sister’s son. More specifically, he is obsessed with him. I have to tell him a story every night before bedtime that involves he and his “best friend Max.” He begs me every morning, “Can we go see Max Mom? Is Max coming over today? Where’s Max? Max my favorite.” It’s so cute, yet very baffling, given the current circumstances.
My nephew is a very independent soul. He could take or leave my son, and by that I mean he wishes I would take him to a dark alley and leave him there. He doesn’t need and/or want a playmate, and certainly not one that follows him around and invades his personal space every five seconds. He is the sweetest boy in the world, but when he walks into my house and makes eye contact with my son, I literally see daggers form in his eyeballs. If looks could kill, my son would’ve been a goner months ago.
My kid is no saint either. He definitely knows how to push buttons and won’t hesitate to do so within seconds of their arrival. It’s the same thing every time. Screaming, hitting, tackling, taunting, eye gouging, and then more screaming. “Shut the f@*k up!” It pushes my sister and I to the point that in a desperate effort to escape the madness, we close our eyes, hold hands, and hit the gas, channeling our best interpretation of Thelma and Louise. “Let’s see how you unruly little shits survive without us! Geronimo!!!!!”
I don’t even care anymore if they like each other. I have a decent sized house. They don’t have to play together. “Seriously, find a corner and do your own thing.” That would be too easy though. They would rather make our life so miserable that we finally collapse and resort to the only shameful thing that will give us 10 minutes of peace and quiet. “Who wants to watch Calliou?”
Current score: Delinquents 784; Moms -7
If it were up to me, I would lock them in the basement and let them either figure out how to civilly coexist in the same space or beat each other to a bloody pulp. “Last one standing gets a cookie.” My sister is a bit more level headed than I am and would certainly frown upon that approach. As a result, we are left with the shit show that is our normal Wednesday morning routine.
News Flash boys: “Unless you want to visit your mothers in a mental institution in the very near future, you better shape the f*@k up! I hate to break it to you, but you are stuck with each other for the rest of your lives. No amount of bad behavior on your part is going to change that. You can’t pick your family…Life isn’t fair…yada yada yada. Deal with it. And just so we’re perfectly clear, we ARE going to get together every Wednesday and you WILL learn to like or at the very least tolerate each other. You are not the boss of us!”
As my sister packs up to leave my house, it’s the same story every time. My son has an absolute meltdown, “No Mommy! I not want Max to leave!”
“Are you kidding me right now? You have one less tooth since he arrived and I’m pretty sure that the limp he is walking down our driveway with is a direct result of your 5th body slam.”
A quick and desperate shout out to my sister as she’s pulling out of the driveway follows, “See you next Wednesday then?”
She replies, “Yep.”
Those little miscreants will not get the best of us.