My family is a unit, here to support and love one another blah blah blah blah blah. That’s all true, but in day-to-day reality, for all intents and purposes, they are the enemy. And no ordinary enemy either. My children are super-villains. My husband my arch-rival. What? That’s not how you’d describe things in your home?
The super-villains adeptly lure you in to a false sense of security. They use their (evil) big eyes, their (evil) cherub faces, their (evil) giggles, their (evil) little hands held tightly in your own all to entice you to let your guard down, to reveal the chink in your armor. They want to know your kryptonite. (Yes, for the purposes of this post I am a superhero, what of it?)
Turns out I can be brought to my knees begging for mercy by 8 or more consecutive hours of constant noise. That is this superhero’s weakness. And L knows it. S is probably onto me too, but L knows for sure. Now I live in fear: what is he plotting? How is he going to use my weakness against me?
So far, he just keeps perfecting his attack methods. He knows all sorts of noises, some are better (worse) than others at breaking me down. When his voice gets tired, after maybe 7 hours or so, he knows that banging an action figure against something hard again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again…. will bring about his desired result. Evil, I tell you.
I spend my time trying to make conversations end. This is not easy. So far, impossible. What if I just don’t answer or respond in any way to his comment? Let’s examine a recent conversation where I employed this method. In the car we were discussing the movie “Beauty and the Beast.” He asked me who the beast is:
me: You know, the one who is a beast.
L: Who? What beast?
me: The guy. You know, the guy. The one the movie is about. The one who is a beast.
L: Which one?
me: The one who is mean and scary at the beginning but turns out to be nice in the end.
L: He’s still mean at the end.
At this point, I realize that this conversation is stupid and is unraveling me. He’s got the last word. I just won’t say anything else and we’ll be done with it.
L: He’s still mean at the end.
L: He’s still mean at the end.
L: He’s still mean at the end.
He doesn’t just say it over and over again. He waits 2-3 seconds between each time. Just long enough for me to think he’s finally finished.
L: He’s still mean at the end.
How many times is he going to repeat himself? Does he think I can’t hear him? What exactly is he looking for from me? I’ll just continue to not say anything. Surely, he’ll shut up soon.
L: He’s still mean at the end.
L: He’s still mean at the end.
Are you wondering how many times he said this until either a) he stopped of his own volition or b) I finally acknowledged him? The answer is 14. He said it 14 fucking times and at that point I was tempted to drive the car into a tree. Instead I decided to give him the smallest acknowledgement possible.
me: mmm-hmmm.
L: Is he still mean at the end, Mommy?
He’s done it. Used his evil powers persistence to trap me back into this asinine conversation. If you’re thinking that this isn’t so bad, multiply this conversation times a day’s worth. He’s up around 6:30 and goes to bed around 7. Do you know how many annoying conversations he can squeeze into that time? A lot.
But it’s not just annoying conversations. I’ve learned that with the Y-chromosome comes a whole host of sound effects. These include (but are not limited to): engine noises, brake noises, gun noises, laser noises, crashing noises, explosion noises, swords-swishing-through-air noises, and fart noises. Add these and the conversations to constant movement and my head explodes. SUPER-VILLAIN!
S is a mini super-villain. Maybe a villain-in-training or VIT. Her sound effects are vastly different and mostly include several unique and distinct whines and cries which she uses to destroy me on a daily basis.
As I mentioned, T is my arch-rival. I compete daily with him to be the one doing dishes rather than putting L to bed, the one “stuck” with S on my lap rather than the one playing some annoying L-game, the one still in bed rather than the one not still in bed. I will run to the kitchen and plunge my hands into raw chicken just so I can say “Honey, my hands are dirty and I think S needs to be changed, could you please do it?”
I live with the enemy. Who will prevail in the end? (That’s easy, totally them.)
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