The Twitch

“Mommy, what do you want me to draw a picture of?  A cat.  No.  A house.  No.  A rainbow.  No, how bout I draw a turtle?  Fine.  What color do you want me to color it?  Green.  No.  Blue.  No.  Red.  No, how bout I color it yellow?”  FINE!  Why didn’t you just say you wanted to draw a yellow turtle instead of playing this insane guessing game with me while I am trying to drive?  Now both of my eyes are twitching and I feel I am in danger of stroking out any second.


I have become extremely familiar with the twitch in my eye, generally just one, but sometimes both.  I have to say it’s downright scary.  Can a child irritate you to a point that your brain starts bleeding and causes an eye twitch?  I’m no doctor (although I have had to act as one in the middle of the night to treat ear aches, headaches, vomiting and other miscellaneous ailments) but I have become an expert at self diagnosis thanks to Web MD and legal commercials advertising symptoms for potential lawsuits.  So, I think I am comfortable saying that my children may cause my brain to bleed into my eye without any research or scientific proof.


I feel the same way when forced to listen to some of their favorite television programs while driving to Michigan for 10 hours.  I have actually began to hate (strongly dislike as I make my children say) some of their beloved cartoon friends.  Most of you know Max & Ruby are at the top of my list.  Bratty kid, bossy sister, broken home with occasional visits from grandma.  Her voice has actually been able to shatter glass and nerves.  High on my list also is Sponge Bob; in the beginning I actually didn’t mind the silliness, but given any time in the car and I actually feel the brain cells jumping out of my head to a safer home like the expressway.  They would rather take their chance ducking semis at 80 MPH then stay in my brain listening to Patrick and Sponge Bob banter.


Another cause of the twitch is ‘repeat the question to see if the answer changes’.  Last night at the restaurant my five year old asks if she can eat a Splenda while we wait for dinner because “she is so starving”.  No.  Can I please have a Splenda?  Why can’t I have the Splenda?  Why are you so mean?  Just one Splenda, please?  Pirter Please???  Can I at least take one home?  This is where all that effort that goes into good parenting gets questionable; the answer is still no, but if I say yes will she stop talking for 60 seconds?


It’s tough to be a good parent, it gets harder when you’re tired and wore out.  Saying yes is the easy answer, saying no will take you on a road trip of frustration.  We do the best we can and when we can’t we tip our overfilled glasses of liquor down our throats.   Cheers to good parenting and bulk booze!


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