1-2-3. I began the countdown in my head. Whatever it took to keep from screaming at my darling offspring. I knew if I did yell it would be really loud. It would have to be to carry over their own cries that escaped the shopping cart where they both sat, fighting over what was probably nothing. But I kept my scream inside. I kept it there because I feared if it escaped out of my throat I would never get it back. The ambulance would arrive, and there they would find me, laying on the floor of Kmart while my blood curdling scream broke the glass of the jewelry display counter. And as they hauled me away my kids would still be fighting over a 25 cent toy they found in the bottom of my purse.
Having kids is annoying. There’s no way around it. I mean they’re okay most of the time, until you have to do stuff. See, having babies doesn’t suddenly take away your other responsibilities. Having children and becoming a mother doesn’t vanquish all the rest of your life. It simply trumps it. You still have things you have to do; now you just have to take along an entourage of mini you’s.
Paying bills is always awful. It’s just more awful with kids. And suddenly the things that once were enjoyable become terrible. God forbid, shopping becomes a trial to endure. It becomes a test in patience, and suddenly running through stores looking at racks becomes a painful experience. It becomes annoying.
Kids are so cute, they are just adorable. They are especially precious when you can just sit around doing nothing but admiring their precocious antics. The rest of the time, though, they’re pretty annoying.
When you’re hauling multiple, little people in and out of the car, strapping and re-strapping safety harnesses, it’s annoying.
When they’re constantly asking for stuff, screaming to get down, and then running off, it’s annoying.
When they’re constantly hungry, thirsty, tired, or they have to pee, it’s annoying.
When they fight, cry, and fall into a tantrum at the drop of a hat, it’s annoying.
And the thing is, saying it out loud makes me feel awful. Like the worst mom ever. After all, I knew what I was signing up for. I mean, not really, but I had a pretty good idea. It’s parenthood, and it’s my responsibility. This is my blessing, and it’s my lot in life. I love it!! But it’s still annoying.
It doesn’t mean I don’t love them. I do. I love them more than I ever knew I could love another person, and I can’t imagine my life without them. The thought is too much to bear. I look down at their adorable faces, and beautiful, big eyes, and my heart feels like it will explode with pride and joy. But they are annoying. When they’re not being crazy cute, they are absolutely annoying.
Being a parent is hard, and I’ve accepted that. I’ve accepted it so much that I don’t even mind. I want another little bundle of hard work, by golly! I do. I know it will be difficult, and it will be annoying at times. But then it will also be absolutely perfect. And wonderful.
Being a mom is like having split personalities. I love my babies more than words can say, but sometimes I want to throttle them where they stand. I cannot fathom my life without those darlings, but sometimes when I’ve accidentally landed in the grocery store at nap time I just want to be all by myself. All alone in perfect silence. Then I will crave their presence like I used to crave a nicotine fix when I first quit smoking. It’s like my heart yearns for their laughter, even for their cries. Then I just want them to go to bed. Crazy, huh?
I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I am a little crazy, and having kids is annoying. I looked around as I stood in line at the grocery store, my children fussy and begging for the candy on display, and I saw the perturbed look of another shopper. I looked down at my loud girls, and I smiled at their vibrant beauty. I brushed their hair with my fingers, and I accepted the fact that they are annoying. They are perfectly annoying to their crazy momma.