And so is my life.
If moms (and dads, for that matter) were paid to referee like those who work for the NBA or NFL, then I would understand the constant tattling, tantruming, demanding, screaming, withholding, and general roughhousing that goes along with this game. But this IS NOT the play-offs and I do not get a whistle and I am not paid NEARLY what I'm worth to settle disputes all day.
Especially when they are ridiculous.
I have two boys, two years apart. I probably could stop there and parents everywhere would nod their heads in acknowledgment at the unbelievable task of refereeing that I must do daily. It's never ending. Truly. If one is not "touching" the other annoyingly, or "looking" at the other weirdly, or calling names, or tattling, or not playing fair, or not sharing, or acting like a "meanie", then I would have a very boring day. How I lovingly covet "boring" days.
I'm tired of being the sheriff. (Where is my badge, by the way?)
A few days ago, I am in the middle of 5 million things (as usual) including sweeping sand out of my kitchen that the kids and the dogs tracked in, wiping down the countertops where someone had just spilt jello, trying to find a hair thing to put my hair up because it's 5 million degrees in Nicaragua currently, and stirring a pot on the stove of chicken noodle soup. All of the sudden, shouts are heard in the living room, and then. . .the crash. Followed by huge sobs. Awesome.
I run in there to find all the crayons spilt all over the floor and my littlest in a heap, crying and screaming something intangible. My oldest, hands on his hips starts in about how he "is the red dog and how brother cannot be the red dog because he's already said first that he's the red dog and two people cannot possibly be the red dog". SIGH. My youngest screams that he said first that he's the red dog and he's "not going to be any other color of dog and he's not going to be his brother's dog-friend if he cannot be the red dog". DOUBLE SIGH.
I mean, really.
I can understand refereeing when it's necessary. When there are legitimate kid fights over toys or turns or tattling. I get it. I really do. I understand that we are still learning what is right and wrong and fair and not fair. That things get a bit gray and cloudy on the "you-move-you-lose" rule or someone maliciously steals a toy. I can rush in and slam down the iron gavel and rule in favor of one or the other, depending on the plaintiff's proper gripe or defendant's understandable excuse. I'm generally good and fixing these things. Turning tantrums into learning experiences and getting all involved back to laughing and smiling terms until the next legitimate argument.
But now we are fighting over imaginary things?!
I would really love to hear what Judge Judy would have to say about who in this house should have the right to be the red dog. I'm completely at a loss.
I scooped up my youngest and told him that he could just be the red unicorn instead. That seemed to do the trick, until his brother decided that the red dog wasn't cool anymore and he wanted to be the red unicorn too. I did what any good mom would do and grounded them from being any imaginary things for the rest of the day. I couldn't take it anymore.
I'm really hoping that this is a phase. Everything else has been. The constant crying at bedtime--phase. The screaming when you leave them at daycare--phase. The wetting the bed--phase. The insistence on having/being/wanting everything that the sibling has/is/wants--TELL ME IT'S A PHASE! I cannot have anymore fights over imaginary animals in my house. I cannot handle the constant bickering. I have not been deputized and I am not paid NEARLY enough for this.
Commiserate with me. . .is anyone else having this problemo? Do your kids fight over everything? Tell me when they outgrow this (because I vaguely remember still fighting with my sister over whose turn it was to use the hot rollers when we were in our teens) and the thought of ten more years of this makes me want to take out a craigslist add to sell them both. (Although, they would probably just argue about who is worth more so loudly and so often that no one would agree to the sell.) Mad props to the parents like myself who are in the trenches, handling imaginary problems as we speak. We need to stick together. What is the craziest things that your littles have fought over?