Why I blog about my family

I would not be me in this current state if it wasn’t for them. They make me what, and who I am today because they are here. My kids are a part of me and therefore a part of my personality (and now a part of this blog).

I post on this blog because I need to say something about me. I do post about how the kids affect me, and because printed words written by me help me understand myself.

Thing is, I’m also a blog-reader. I like connecting to other bloggers who are moms (like me) with kids similar to my kids’ ages who go through, have gone through, or will go through things like I go through. I like reading about their rants and anecdotes simply so I don’t feel alone with my experiences. I like hearing about other people’s adventures in parenthood because it makes me cry, smile, laugh out loud or shake my head and commiserate with them. It brings back memories I may have forgotten about, or provides me with a taste for a delicious kind of anticipation of things that will still come. But most of all, when it all just gets so hard, I read, and write, to remind myself that this too shall pass.

(Like the sleep topic: Yes, they do eventually sleep through the night. I promise. Mine did. Him at 12 months and her at 4 and a half years. See, it does happen eventually…)

I read about others who share their stories and then tell my own story here. This is what blogging is about, for me and for many others. My blog roll keeps getting longer because I keep stumbling over tweets, posts or facebook comments made by so many other interesting people, I keep adding them to my reading list. My blog roll is on my main page in the right margin. Go ahead and check, you might be in it!

There’s a shift happening, and I can feel it. It feels like the ground I walk on is somewhat shaky, brittle even. I see how we, as a family, have grown and changed, and I see how the kids are growing and changing so fast, it makes my head spin. Then there’s this whole dynamic that’s happening between the siblings, and I try to leave them to it, but there’s just so many loud noises…

It’s the endless, relentless teasing. Him to her, her copying him, and the subsequent regression into toddlerhood (aka meltdowns, crying for reasons I don’t and do not care to understand, stomping and slamming of doors, etc).

It’s exhausting and short of removing privileges (NO MINECRAFT TODAY. AND NO XBOX EITHER!) I find myself wanting to do less, rather than more, interfering. Or supervising. Or monitoring.

A lot less.

You will not find me, for example, directing them when they fight or argue. (Ok, that’s a lie. But I try to stay out of it. Mostly. Sometimes I can’t help myself and just want them to stop.)

I can’t hear half of what they’re discussing half the time so why get involved? But as soon as the high-pitched noises start, I know he said something to cause her to freak out, likely for his own personal source of entertainment. (Because he is 9 and a boy and 9 year old boys in my experience enjoy tormenting their younger sisters).

Not that she’s without fault…oh, she’s got her own bees in her bonnet, that one. And she’s a bundle of energy beyond what I might consider normal amounts of energy for 6 year old girls …which is why I put her in camps this summer. Full day last week, half day this week, and on the way home from pickup I exercise them both with plenty of outdoor activities.

But still, the noises continue. Those shrill screeches that put my teeth on edge…

I took away the Minecraft privilege today because there was just too much of ‘he got to do more‘ and ‘she did this to me’ while playing with Molly, our part-time pup we sat for part of the day today. They just can’t seem to navigate their limits. Or respect mine. I drive my car and try to tune them out so I won’t smash into a post, until the insults start hurling (She called me an idiot! – No I didn’t you idiot!) and I stop the car and tell them to get out and walk home. (Except they don’t because I would get arrested.)

They relax, remembering the Minecraft privilege, but I don’t know who starts it next, and soon there is more noise and we’re back to me taking away the privilege:

“I changed my mind. No Minecraft. You guys can’t get along.”

The negotiations following such statements are worthy of writing down. They are masters at negotiating for Minecraft or Xbox time. I should make THEM write them down…in grammatically correct English. AND FRENCH. Just because…

Sigh.

They’re good kids. They’re great kids and I can’t take my eyes off of them, they are so beautiful and intelligent and innovative and cute. I search for characteristics in them that remind me of me, either now or when I was a child. I look for physical comparisons (he has more than she does, so I look longer and harder at her just to find that one little thing in her blond quirkiness that reminds me of me…) and also for behavioural ones. They both have my temper, but hers last longer than mine do, and expends more noise.

How is it that I can type all this right now after I had just listened (and ignored) their reasons for getting the Minecraft priviledge back? I fed them pie. And left a huge pile of library books handy for them to look through. And I’m not buying their ‘but we get along when we play Minecraft together’ promises.

I guess I have a decision to make. If I want peaceful co-existence, then I must let them play Minecraft for 8 hours per day every day for the rest of the summer.

Like that’s gonna happen.

πŸ™‚

 

 

 

 

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One thought on “Why I blog about my family

  1. I could have written this one, too! Lately I have been waxing nostalgic for the days when they were so small that summer meant a daily trip to the park, quiet time or naps, and then early to bed. A bad day might mean we spilled some juice or someone got an ouchy. These days, it’s bicker, bicker, bicker all day long – they just need more to do. Or to see less of each other. Or something…but in any case, it’s turning into a loooooong summer.

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