Now, I don’t expect everyone to believe that. But it is true. Especially for myself. Sometimes I wonder if I’m worse than all the other mothers out there. Having a 5 year old girl (who thinks she is the Emperess or the Queen, given the day) and an 8 month old boy (who believes it is his life mission to yank out the hair of every moving being nearby) is proving quite the challenge.
There are days when I wonder why I haven’t given in and checked myself into a mental hospital. And then I remember that by the time it occurs to me, the children are usually asleep and I’ve regained some of my lost brain cells from the dungeon that is my daughter’s room.
Not even joking, which is sad. If you saw what that girl does on a regular basis… Maybe I’ll upload pictures one of these days. Tangent alert! She found a bottle of her brother’s baby powder the other day.
Do you know what a girl her age can do with baby powder? HORROR. That’s what she can do. I’m STILL trying to get all the baby powder off some of the floors… and she got it on the cat litter step mat. Yep.
PLUS, the corner of her room is now white. Impressive. I have a budding artist.
Moving on. Losing my mind, that’s right. So during the day, when the baby screams for attention or bangs his head on something yet again, and my daughter chooses JUST the wrong time to start asking for things… that’s when I lose my marbles. I start to feel my blood pressure rise, and my heart accelerate, and the only thing keeping me from doing something stupid is the fact that I know somewhere, deep inside, I love those rascals.
And then comes bedtime. The angels open up the gate of heaven, and I hear the heavenly hallelujahs… and I proceed to open a computer game and beat something into a bloody pulp.
Violent, I know. But oddly, I feel so much better releasing my pent up Single-Stay-At-Home-Mother rage out on other people via the Internet. In the Beta of StarCraft 2, for instance. I get to watch buildings explode, blood splatter, and if I’m going against a Zerg player, I can listen to the squelchy explosions of buildings or units erupting into piles of goo.
Dragon Age Origins. Need I say more? Violence, betrayal, near-rape, etc… Suddenly my life seems so much more peaceful compared to the horrors that my character goes through.
And I often console myself, thinking that I cannot possibly be the only mother out there that uses these violent tools as therapy.