Why do I bother coming home? I’m not home all day, and, like it or not, I do miss the kids.
Until I get home and they’re behaving like right little fuckers and whinging and complaining about everything, throwing tantrums and speaking to me like crap. Ugh!! I hate it.
I eventually told them – after several hours of this – that they were beginning to piss me off and that they could just not come near me until I was ready for them. Yes, I actually said “You are beginning to piss me off.”
Not that that stopped them. They kept going and going until I threw a tantrum, and told them to stay the hell away from me. Sat down on the couch to watch a bit of telly with Grumpy Pants.
Oooh, I was angry. Monkey Boy even came and apologised – although I do suspect that this is because he knows to apologise and we were watching the Simpsons and he wanted to, too. So I told him to piss off again.
And at which point in their very limited lives do they learn about emotional blackmail? Its just not fair.
As we were sitting watching the Simpsons, and laughing very loudly, just to show them what they were missing out on, Monkey handed me a piece of paper, and returned to his room before I could say anything.
On which was written, in very neat, well formed letters, a very correctly spelt “I love you very much, Mummy.”
Bloody litte shit. Then he came back, asked me if I liked his note, then “Are you crying, Mummy?”
Of course I bloody was. That’s just not fair that kids can get away with doing things like that to their Mums. Hmph.