...'cause Jamaican me crazy!
Seriously, I love my son. He's cute, gorgeous, and too smart for his own good. But the kid is bugging the crap out of me right now. He's going through this really whiny phase at the minute, and he is EXCEPTIONALLY needy when Martin is at home. He's also becoming quite pedantic, which is bad news for his sister. Poor Edith gets shouted at when she says anything wrong, and she's only 2 years old. It makes for a pretty long Saturday.
I'm struggling to get through the evenings at the minute. Don't know why, but I have been very short tempered of late. I'd blame it on PMS, but thanks to my Mirena, I have no menstrual cycle to speak of. Which leads me to believe that it's not me, it's them.
I wish I could be a loving and besotted parent all the time, but the truth is that while I always love my kids, I spend quite a lot of time not liking them very much. Some days are a success if I manage to not shout at them.
Today was not a success.
Also, I take a sick pleasure in tormenting Dylan with things he is irrationally afraid of. Like refusing to turn off "Mr. Maker" when the shapes come on and turning on the vacuum before he has a chance to get to the sofa. Does that make me a sadist, a bad parent, or both?
Please don't call social services on me. I'll be nicer to them tomorrow.
Promise!
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