I’m feeling snarky.  Snark snark snark.

This little person makes me absolutely crazy.  Little boys are like small criminals, prone to breaking things, manipulating their mothers, and terrorizing the neighbors’ pets. Mine is constantly on the lookout for something new to get his hands on.  I hear him pull a Christmas ornament off the tree, walk into my kitchen muttering something about chocolate milk, and tap the ornament on my new stove, or my cabinets.  I reply, “WE DON’T HAVE ANY MORE CHOCOLATE MILK!  GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!!  Would you like a banana, sweetie?”

The answer is no.  Of course not.

This is a normal day after 2:30pm, leading up to bedtime.  Little J has been in nursery school for 3 months.  I found a place that is SO close to our home, it’s practically ideal.  I’m so thankful for preschool.  Every day, they do their montessori mumbo-jumbo, he eats his lunch and takes his nap.  Upon waking, several of the kiddos are seated at the snack table for some grub, and they all call out, “Bye Jimmy!” when they see me sign him out.  It’s the most adorable thing, really.  The students are all so friendly.  I’ve started hearing a song that resembles Jingle Bells come out of J’s mouth.  It sounds more like “Be-boo-boh.  Be-boo-boh.  Be-boo-Oh-Away.”  It’s amazing when you start to hear actual melodies come out of your two year old!  He is also learning his colors and counting to seven quite frequently.  It’s nice to see him enjoying himself at school.

So why is after school so difficult?  Why, good Lord, WHY?

I think the answer is that a majority of kids do not sit in their rooms and play quietly.  Not until they are five, or six, or older.  It’s a great secret that our mothers are keeping from us.  We probably drove them apeshit too, but they’ve blocked it out.  It’s the only explanation that I can come up with.  Our home is just too boring, and so Little J likes to push my limits until I crack.  Because, ya know, he’s learning.

Oh sure, I take J to the park, the train museum, indoor playgrounds, the neighbor’s house, sometimes even Barnes and Noble.  But I’m 5 months pregnant.  No one can tell me that I don’t deserve to lay on the couch and read a book or watch The Biggest Loser come 4:00pm when my body really wants to nap.  I would love for my son to play with his little toy animals and his plastic airplane for more than 11 minutes at a time.  I’m sick of all of the yelling and the tears when I usher him over to his bedroom for time out.  I keep thinking it is going to end, but the movement towards better behavior is extremely slow.  Children are as consistent as we are.  Truly.  Quite often he is sweet and silly, grabbing my hand and asking me to dance with him.  Just as often, he pisses me off and I have to discipline him.  Over and over and over again.

I could use a drink.