Daddy, you need to come upstairs soon

"Daddy, you need to come upstairs soon. Mommy is very angry." My son called down the stairs to my husband on Sunday afternoon.

You see, my husband had a project due on Monday morning, so he had to spend much of Saturday evening and pretty much all of Sunday working on this project.

It didn't really bother me and it gave me a chance to feel all super-mom-like and take the kids to the park, then come home, give them lunch, and play with them, all while the husband was busy working.

The kids went upstairs for their naps, during which time, I took the opportunity to sit for 20 minutes while watching a DVR'd episode of one of my favorite shows, Mission Organization. Then, I headed off to pick up some things from the grocery store and take care of my in-laws' cats, who were left alone for the weekend and who now need to be fed on a daily basis because they only eat soft cat food, which they then puke up all over the carpet. (I didn't clean up the puke.)

When I got home, my husband met me at the door saying that the girl had just awakened and that she was crying for mommy. So, I went upstairs, got the girl (who had only napped for 1.25 hours) and got the boy (who had not napped at all) and brought them downstairs for snacktime.

We had a fairly uneventful snack time in which I discovered that the girl loves raisins and the boy still won't try anything new ("they're dried grapes! you love grapes! bite it... yummmm" - No. Huh-uh! Never!)

However, that's when it all began to fall apart. I went to the kitchen to start cleaning up from snacktime and I could hear pounding at the table. This, unfortunately, is nothing new. The boy "booms" on things. He "booms" on everything - the table, the walls, the floors, all of his toys, his books, his sister - yep, pretty much everything. I'll tell him that we need to put on his shoes. His reply, "Mommy, just a minute. I'm boomin'!"

Needless to say, I've gotten very used to hearing "booming" around the house and it doesn't really register with me anymore. However, when I turned around to see what the kids were doing, I was none too pleased. I had made the mistake of leaving Cheerios on the table for them to eat while I was cleaning up. The boy had decided to meticulously "boom" each one of his Cheerios into a pile of dust with his sippy-cup of juice.

"Oh, don't do that!!!"
"Whhyyy?"
"Because it makes a mess!"
[Continues "booming"]
"Hey, I said don't do that!!!"
"Whhyyy?"
"It's not nice! It makes me have to clean up your mess!!!"
[blank stare - begins to try to "boom" some more]
By this point, it was obvious I was not making any headway in this discussion and my temper began to rise.
"I SAID STOP THAT. IT MAKES ME VERY ANGRY THAT YOU'RE DOING THAT! It makes a big mess and I'm the one that has to clean it up. Go tell your daddy that he needs to come up here soon!!"

And off he trotted. "Daddy, you need to come upstairs soon. Mommy is very angry!" And darn it if it didn't crack me up to hear him saying that.

I have decided through the last few months that my parents are saints. I don't remember my parents constantly yelling at me like I feel I'm constantly yelling at our son. I don't, of course, constantly yell at him, but it feels that way to me. I feel like I'm continuously telling him to stop doing something and eventually losing my temper and yelling at him. I'm trying to get better, but I just don't remember my parents doing that to me.

Well, there was this one time - I vividly recall it involved me playing under the card table, on which there sat my half-eaten bowl of soggy raisin bran. My mom kept telling me to stop playing with the table, but of course, I didn't listen and the scene ended with soggy raisin bran all over the wall and me hiding in my closet while I waited for my spanking, which oddly enough, only made my mom even madder when she couldn't find me! (Imagine that!)

Anyway, after hearing my own words through my sons voice, and giggling over it, I went downstairs (as my husband headed up the stairs) with renewed enthusiasm, to clean the dog poop off my sons shoes because some dipwad couldn't be bothered to pick up after his dog at a children's park - and I got mad at that, too.