Whack-A-Mole . . . Whack-A-Brother?

The boys headed off to batting practice. My daughter threw her arms around my neck and said,"Okay, Mommy! Let's have some girl time!"
I had way too much work to do, but how could I ignore those big baby blues and toothless grin? After a ruthless game of Sorry! we plunged headlong into a game of Whack-A- Mole. You know the one. . . the little mole with the hard hat. He lights up and says some phrase like,"Yoo-Hoo!" or "Duhhh!" and you give him a good whack on the head and the dinger goes off.

Now, what I want to know is was it a man or a mother that came up with a game that gives you four hammers to whack the snot out of an animal making sassy noises at you? And then let's talk about the kids playing it on their own in the other room without adult supervision. . . the brother does something to provoke the sister and BOOM! Whack-a-Brother has begun. The brother starts running and the (younger) sister is chasing- with ALL FOUR HAMMERS, mind you, letting loose a war cry that would rival Geronimo's at the top of her (ahem-dainty?NOT!) little lungs.

Yep, the B household is ready for Spring. At least I can throw them outside in the yard (yes, them meaning Z1 and Z2) and pretend not to notice the sibling warfare. Thanks, Whack-A-Mole, for arming my little one. I've always told the older child that,"One day, she WILL be big enough to hit you back." Guess she's wanting to make up for lost time.

Yours, knowing I'll be going through the game cabinet tonight and looking at every game piece a little differently,

M

Here, Honey, Let Me Help You With That. . .

     For the last few weeks my husband has been between jobs.  He was let go from his last position on New Year's Eve.  Needless to say, that night was a little more red wine than champagne. The good news is, he accepted a position with a new company today and will begin work this coming Monday.

     Now, before we go any further, I feel that I must reassure you that I DO love my husband.  However, three weeks of complete togetherness is like getting a third child without the preparation of pregnancy, or the two complete years it takes the infant to learn how to voice their opinions. (Breathing in . . . . breathing out. . . .)  Such togetherness can sometimes be, how shall I put it politely, challenging. (Read: He's lucky to have his limbs left).  Granted, I am no angel and come complete with my own set of flaws, idiosyncrasies and boundaries. But here is where I draw the line. . . .

     For the last almost eight years, I have been the primary bather/feeder/nose and bottom wiper/ discipliner/homework guide/kids carting/house keeper/launderer/still working three part time jobs outside the home parent. It's my job. I'm perfectly fine with it.  We agreed when we decided to join the parenting club that one of us would need to have this position.  To be fair, he does help some, but this particular workload falls to me most of the time.  More often than not, I do a pretty fair job.  But the last three weeks have been filled with little comments such as. . . 

     "You know honey, if you would just . . . ."

"You really should do it like this. . . ."

"What in the world are you trying to do over there. . . ?"

"Oh my- what happened here?"

"See- nothing to it!"

About sometime this weekend, I looked at him after one of those insightful remarks were made and simply said,"My love, I know you want to help. But indulge me a moment. Allow me to offer you a little insight. You are an IT Project Manager, yes? And I am a musician, correct? As a musician, I would never, EVER presume to walk into your office and start offering you copious amounts of unsolicited advice because, well, I just don't know that much about your job.  And to be frank, it is getting on my last nerve and I'm not sure that even that last one is whole."

He looked in my eyes, took my hand and said,"You are an amazing wife and mother. I'm going to go into the other room now."

Smart, smart, man. The kind of man that knows how to keep all his body parts.

Yours, looking forward to a little bit of my own space in the coming days,

Melissa