Just moments ago I found myself yet again lying on a child’s bed I had just made whimpering “leave me alone” in response to said child calling me. Is that why they call them High Holidays because they make you want to get high?
The fact is that once again I have to face the fact that I love my kids more than life itself, and it’s a good thing too because they’ve ruined mine. Ruined it. Not a moment to myself even when I get a moment to myself. Right now I am typing this blog with my thumbs because for some reason when the computer comes out they mystically begin bugging me with rising hysteria. It’s as if the back of the laptop induces Pavlov’s Dog levels of anxiety. Meanwhile I’m trying to concentrate with Pokemon rival destinies playing in the background. Make that the foregound, they watch TV like they’re elderly old men with hearing damage.
They fight with each other. They throw popcorn at each other. They say things like “penis breath” which is funny and “a nut sack full of turds” which is not. They make paper planes with these words prominently displayed on them and I get so incredibly frustrated and helpless that all I can half-heartedly correct is, Terds is spelled with a “u.”
And if you want to say, Well they’re kids, they’re suppose to do that… Then you come over and take care of them! I need a nap.
All week they have been singing Christmas songs because as the mohel (Rabbi who circumsized them) once warned me if I didn’t send them to a Jewish school then they wouldn’t understand anything about it. And it’s happened they don’t know the difference between Purim and Halloween, and why we would even bother to eat Matzah on Passover. I am a bad bad Jew and an even worse mother, so tonight i am taking them to a Chanukah concert.
I ended up yelling at David in frustration earlier on the week, Stop singing Christmas songs!!!! Without skipping a beat he started singing,
“On the first day of Chanukah my true love gave to me, one big booby…”
I. Give. Up.