Morgan’s been home for three days now. Three very interesting, fun filled (I use the term fun, very lightly) days. She vacillates between being so helpful that I just want to kiss her all day and an absolute nightmare. The lovely side, is very, very lovely. Mommy, can I help you? Mommy, can I fold those clothes for you? (Yes and blessings upon you child.) Mommy do you need anything? Like maybe some more iced tea? Truly that side of her has been awesome. That and the hugs, man I missed the girl’s hugs.
Then the other side of her happens. The bossy, demanding, I am the queen of the world attitude. This, well honestly, I can handle this, as we normally see it in smaller doses. It’s a bit larger than life, this side of her, in the moment. But that comes from spending three weeks being pampered by my parents, aunties and uncles and general spoiling. But it’s the hitting that has me wanting to kill her. She can’t seem to not fight with her sister. See, Morgan’s bossy….shocker I know. Bailey normally isn’t, but as she’s gotten older, she’s getting more independent and not willing to bend to her sisters demanding ways. This causes loads of problems, my friends. Personally, I’d let them deal with it, except I have this problem right now and it’s basically that I can’t handle the screaming. It’s hot and I’m huge and a LARGE grouch and I just can not deal with the screaming. Or for that matter, the noisy bickering and the CONSTANT tattling. She looked at me; she touched my Littlest Pet Shop death trap; she let her bike feel up my bike….it’s all gotten a bit old and frankly I just don’t care. I don’t feel bad for either of them and I told them both so.
Then the hitting started. Morgan’s hitting her sister and then trying to hold her in the room so she won’t tell me, which is funny because she doesn’t get that the ear piercing screaming would eventually tip me off or something.
The best however, is the excuses given for the hitting. Yesterday they were normal, Bailey looked at me and then wouldn’t do what I wanted her to do. She pushed me out of the way….why yes I was holding her in the room, but that’s not important. And so on and so on.
Today they’ve gotten down right funny.
Mom, I didn’t mean to hit her; she got in the way when I was reaching for my toothbrush.
I didn’t smack her on her back, I was giving her a high five and she turned around.
And the all time winner, this one being the one that made me finally separate them for the next two hours at least: Mommy, I was talking to Bailey and telling her what to do and she wasn’t listening to me and I had to talk faster and I bit the inside of my mouth and it hurt and then I hit her, cause it was her fault.
Uh huh, sounds plausible to me. Somehow, I just don’t feel sorry for the child. I’m thinking it’s a bad sign that I’m counting down the days until school starts. Twenty-two and a half days for those of you who care to know.
Dam it to hell, I can't even drink.