It's hard to be a kid in these rainy northwest winters. I should know. I remember playing Lincoln Logs until I'd fall asleep on my parents shag carpet most rainy winter days when the game of "watching cars drive by on the street" got too boring.
So it should not be any surprise to me that on days like this, when the weather can't decide if it wants to rain or snow and then, after a lengthy battle complete with freezing ice pellets, finally decides on rain, that my kids get cabin fever.
Otherwise known as: Drive your momma crazy til she pulls all of her hair out and drowns her sorrows in a fifth of vodka she has tucked away in the very back of the freezer.
Are you familiar with it too?
So I corral them. I speak to them in a voice I hope does not sound like the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon, and I ask them to "just calm down a little, okay?"
And ten minutes later we are right back where we started. I'm ready to pull my hair out.
This weekend the kids stayed with my parents for one night (cue the harps and the hallelujahs). When we arrived the next day to pick them up they were all playing (at the same time) together in their bedroom. One was coloring. One was making a playlist on the computer. One was reading a comic book.
They were all quiet.
I left them there and helped my mom in the kitchen. Just like any 2 women in the kitchen, we start to visit. We talk about this and we talk about that. We slice some tomatoes for a salad and take things in and out of the oven. She tells me how good the kids have been, how there has not been a single cross word or scuffle.
You know, the same old same old.
But it isn't.
It's not the same.
I don't know about you, but my kids do not act this low maintenance when they are at home, with me. I know, I know. I've heard the "kids always act better for other people than they do their own parents." And somehow, hearing this is supposed to make me feel like I'm raising them right. Like I'm doing my job. Like I have nothing to complain about.
But it doesn't.
I want them to be this way for me, when we're home.
I want to be able to drink a cup of tea (not vodka, I was kidding about that part...a little) and read a book or do whatever without hearing thumps and booms and bangs when they are all in one of their rooms together. I want to be able to prepare a meal without shouting, "What are you doing up there?" Fully expecting someone to come to the top of the stairs with a bonk on the head or a bloody nose.
[Yes, I am aware that I'm whining.]
I want them to be nice and quiet. Just like they are when they're at grandma's house.
I don't want to hear, "We're playing hide and seek in the dark and Roy (the dog) is it."
How long until spring?