It happened. Well, almost. The words were teetering on the tip of my tongue, begging to be let out:
"Michael, stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about!"
Instead, I hesitated after "stop crying" and changed course to: "or... or... I'll send you to your room." Then I sighed, not the least bit satisfied. Maybe it was the lack of poetry involved, but whatever the reason, it did not calm my urge to punch my fist through a wall.
I find myself saying "Stop crying!" to my three-year-old a lot these days. Along with "Stop whining!", "Get your hand out of your pants!" and "Don't pester the babies!"
Michael generally sticks with, "I'm hungry", "I want my daddy!" and "Hold me, Mom."
Funny how every part of my life is filled with the same phrases nowadays, including these ones from random strangers:
"Oh, are they twins?" I'm not sure why people ask this. I can see how there might be a question if they were older, but two newborns with matching blankets? Of course they are twins! I don't make a habit of walking around with a double stroller just in case one of my friend's babies wants to hitch a ride.
"A boy and a girl! Now you are done!" Um, thanks, I'll file that away. Of course, that statement is better than this one (and I'm not making this up):
"Oh, a boy and girl! It's a good thing you had them second or you would never have had your older son." What the...?
"Oh, twin boys!" Um, yes, one of whom is dressed in pink and ruffles, sitting in a pink carseat and has a pink blanket on "his" lap. (What do people think, that I'm just bulking up the file to give to his future therapist?).
"You have your hands full!" Yes, so could you hold the door open for me instead of diving under my arms to get out in front of me?
"Are you getting any sleep?" Yes, sleep takes priority over everything until we all run out of underwear. Then laundry has to come first.
These phrases dominate my life now. It's like everyone is on song repeat (which I suppose is appropriate, seeing as I feel like a broken record all day long). But more than anything, it makes me so grateful for the phrases I don't have to say anymore: "CTI, this is Bonnie", "I can have that report on your desk this afternoon", and "No, I don't have any children."
I could go for a little less in the whining department though. But I suppose if I were three-years-old and had recently been dethroned by two demanding infants at the same time as my Daddy disappeared into the bowels of tax season, I might be a little whiny too.
I guess that just means it's time for Mom to invest in some earplugs.