Friday, September 11, 2009

Whispers Are Never Good

My full time job has me sitting at the computer all day. I am what some may call, fortunate, in that my computer is in my living room.

Fortunate, I am. I can get my kids on the bus and to daycare when then need me to, I can run to the school in 4 minutes if something is forgotten or someone is sick. I can start dinner on my lunch break. I can throw a load of laundry in the washer as I print a 70 page document. And my commute is the quickest and most comfortable.

However, with all good things, there are some not so great things. Working in my house gets lonely, the scenery is always the same, some feel that since I'm at home, I'm not really working. And the worst part, is that I never leave work. It is with me all day and night.

Wednesday, I was trying to finish up some emails before I "left" work. That is when the whisper started.

I can always tell when my kids are up to something. It gets uber quiet, with a side of giggle and a whisper.

It was shortly after that, when my 3yr old came running into the living room and said, "Mom, you're fat." And as he was running back, I told him how sad that made me and how unkind it was to call people names.

Another whisper.

Minute later, "Mom, you're weird."

Frustrated, I continued to work, because, I had to finish.

Another whisper.

Thirty seconds later, "Mom, you're stupid."

It was about that point when the d in stupid flew through the air that I thrust my chair halfway across the floor and said, "That's it!"

Both of them went to their rooms, were instructed to clean their rooms (50% effective) and to write (6yro) and draw (3yro) me an apology.

The little guy asked how to spell 'Sorry' (as seen in yellow, center of picture, his version SOHH). Temporary heart melt. Got over that quickly.

"Children," as my girlfriend said, "are the only things in life that can bring you the most frustration AND the most joy, but there isn't much in between." Because of Wednesday, I believe that statement.

So, after discussing with them, showing them how hurt I was, I did what all good mothers do.

I bought myself a little frame purse.

Thanks, www.Oktak.etsy.com

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