Got to talk with my hubby this morning! Yay!
He's been busy.
I ran my finger down the window pane and watched the condensation ripple down into a big drop that then pooled on the sill. The thermometer reads 38 degrees. Inside. It's chilly. I've got on my long-johns and my warm fuzzy pants. And a coat. Thank goodness for wool. It's a wonderful thing.
Me and Anthony were discussing, yesterday, why we live here and the cold. He keeps asking me, "Why do we live here?", to which I've begun to answer, "Because we want to be warm and dry..." You know the next question:
"Well, because it's cold outside and would be no fun to live in a box."
"Yes, it would be fun!...Why is it cold?"
"Because it is winter."
"Because God said we need different seasons for things to grow...."
"Because he knew you would ask about it and wanted me to have a good answer for you!"
"Oh...Can we go to the snow?"
"Can I have a puppy?"
Last night we had dinner at a friends house. It was 9:30, we had finished eating ice-cream for dessert, and Anthony got tired suddenly.
I heard him arguing very loudly in the other room. Things escalated to the point of him grabbing the car with one hand on the door and the other on the side of the car, both feet on the edges of the door to keep from getting in. Oi. I got him in, but had to wrestle with him just to get him buckled. My poor friend is standing off to the side saying, "Oh this must be so hard for you....I feel so sorry for you..." *Oi* We went through the whole unbuckling/buckling-back-in thing for a good ten minutes before I could actually get in and leave. When he acts like this it makes me feel like a bad mom...mostly because I feel out of control and everyone is of this thinking that the parent should always be in control. Mostly, I'm calm on the outside, talking to him calmly, just doing what I have to do to get things done, and freaking going mad inside being embarrassed and just trying to figure out the right thing to do is. Yelling isn't an option with like 10 people watching you through the window of the house. Not that it does much good anyways. Anthony doesn't respond to yelling, much. Anyway, once we're situated I'll hug him and he'll calm down. But wow! It's like running a marathon just to get to that point. I was sweating like a pig by the time I got into the drivers seat. And what do I say to my friend....a sort of half-hazard smile/shrug and leave in a hurry before the kid gets unbuckled again.
I love how the other kid gets involved, too. He's screaming so she at first is sentimental trying to make him feel better (LOL, actually she was giving him stern "words"), and then she just starts the all-out screaming and crying too. Yay! At that point I'm just like throwing my hands in the air, rolling my eyes, laughing maniacly, and blasting whatever is good on the radio.
And then I go home and cry.