Crazy

I think any person who stays home with kids is a little crazy. Don't try to deny it, you know its true. Actually, I may amend this to any person that has kids, because I think I was a little crazy even before I stayed home. Now I'm just more crazy.

The other day I was driving home from somewhere with the girls in the backseat talking to J on my cell. As I talked, the girls started shouting things from the backseat. Things like "More drink, mom" and "Mom, I'm hungry. Where's my snack?"

"I feel like I'm their bitch," I whispered lest they hear me and start calling me 'bitch' in a sing-song voice. "All day long, constant demands." J laughed and we hung up. But its true. I pretty much am just here to serve these pint-size bosses. And they are literally asking me for something ALL. THE. TIME. Little A actually stands next to me when I pour her juice and demands "Apple. No water in it." No, I'm not joking.

There are so many examples of crazy from my daily life. A littler earlier today, I was using the bathroom with the door open of course and of course, since I can NEVER pee in peace, Big A came in holding her princess vitamins and asked me to open them. In mid-stream. Really? I politely asked her if she could somehow nutritionally survive for the approximate 30 seconds it would take for me to finish up? Okay, she agreed, fine. Gee, thanks.

Then there's the crazy that comes from being silly enough to leave Little A in the dining room alone for 23 seconds. In case you're wondering, that's just enough time to dump a half cup of Mexican rice all over the dining room floor. So that 23 seconds bought me exactly 6 minutes of sweeping up sticky rice and probably 60 days of finding rice on my feet anytime I walk into the dining room.

The other day we were at the bookstore and I was feeling like I was 'up to here' with the girls. Just then we passed another mom who really was up to there. In fact, she was so up to there that she felt the need to yell it loudly at her kids. I smiled in sympathy and felt a lot better. Better her be crazy than me.

And finally there is the ultimate crazy. The crazy that makes you put the crazy-inducing rugrats to bed at night and breathe a sigh of relief that you've survived another day. And then 10 minutes later be thinking about how cute those little buggers are. Now that's crazy.