The whining, the nagging, the rudeness, the backtalk. Ah, yes. The joys of parenting.
I’m sure that whoever you are, your kids are PERFECT. But it can’t be just me. Can it?
Please tell me it’s not just me. That I am not the only mother being driven crazy by her own kids.
Mama, mama, did you see my drawing, mama?
Do you like it, mama?
Mama, mama, I made my own bed, come see, mama.
Mama, mama, I ate all of my lunch. Isn’t that good mama?
Mama mama mama mama….
It’s enough to make me want to change my name to…Dada.
This summer, my son has decided that he is going to call me mama. And he is going to call me that twice at the beginning of each sentence, and once at the end. Basically, the format is:
“Mama. mama (insert need for approval) Mama.”
Then there’s the food. His favorite used to be grilled chicken. Suddenly, he deems it “gross.” He used to eat watermelon. Now it’s too wet for him. He used to like cheese sticks. Now, only fine French cheese will do. He’s even turning down most types of cookies. Can you say “control issue?” Meal time has become a game of Russian Roulette — and I’m the one with the gun at my head.