Friday, May 18, 2007

"Then why did I have the bowl Bart? Why did I have the bowl?" - Milhouse, in "The Simpsons"

My children are driving me up a wall. Remind me again why I am jonesing for a fourth?

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Terzo has learned to say Mama, although I am not sure he knows what it means: he wanders the house chanting it: “Mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama mama…”

He is becoming increasingly verbal and the two older hooligans delight in making him say potty words:
“Terzo, say Poop!”
“Poop!”
“Say Pee!”
“Pee!”
“Say Fart!”
“Fart!”
“Say Mama’s going to kill herself if you don’t cut her a break really soon!”

And he is into EVERYTHING. Because of the way our kitchen cabinets are built, I use rubber bands and/or wooden spoons to hold the doors shut. Ditto the cabinet in the bathroom and the video cabinet. He has managed to unwrap ponytail holders from every one of these places, regardless of how tightly I wrap them. And while I understand that not everyone grasps the importance of alphabetizing your videos, it would be nice to not have the boys crunch over a layer of them when they walk through the living room.

He likes to go into the bathroom and flush the toilet and turn on the faucets and pull all the tissues out of their boxes. He also unrolls the toilet paper and wanders away with anyone’s toothbrush he can reach, leaving them in weird, unsanitary places like under the kitchen radiator or in the dog bowl.

Speaking of, he likes to splash around in the dog’s water bowl like it’s his own personal wading pool, and if he can open the door to get down onto the landing (I have caught him several times trying to wedge his solid little body through the cat door), he methodically places each and every bit of kibble in the cats’ bowl into their water bowl.

He especially enjoys navigating the living room without touching the floor: from the piano bench to the armchair, along the back to the arm of the couch, along the couch to the ottoman to the coffee table from whence he flings himself triumphantly onto the second armchair.

He routinely tries to ride Punto as if the dog was a horse, and failing that, he steers him by his tail. The one cat knows enough to hide from him but the other, less bright one has also suffered to be straddled and ridden.

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Meanwhile, Segundo has turned into a very...volatile...four-year-old.
EVERYTHING is a TRAGEDY! Of the highest order!
Resulting in floods, FLOODS, I tell you, of tears!
Because life is terrible and IT’S! NOT! FAIR! Accompanied by stomping feet and jumping up and down for good measure, in case I didn’t grasp that IT’S! NOT! FAIR! WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s not fair that he has to eat cereal for breakfast! Wait, no, it’s waffles that’s not fair! And it’s not fair! That his clean underwear is folded in his drawer! And it’s certainly not fair! That we require him to eat dinner before he has a treat! NOT! FAIR!

I expect him to brush his teeth?
NOT FAIR!
I expect him to put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket?
NOT FAIR!
I expect him to not push down his younger brother and take away his toy?
NOT FAIR!
I expect him to stop yelling and go to sleep sometime before midnight?
NOT FAIR!

No one loves him, he’s going to hate me FOREVER, and by the way? It’s NOT FAIR!

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By comparison, dealing with my motormouth Primo is a cakewalk. It only took threatening to not let him go to a t-ball game, and making him apologize to his teacher, to get him to stop chattering so much in class and listen.

I do wish he came with a volume knob, as I do not want to listen to anyone (well, except maybe Colin Firth) recite the Pirates’ batting statistics, game schedules, shoe sizes, and a gamut of other fascinating facts, before breakfast, or for that matter, EVER.

I freely admit it: I DON'T CARE what the starting defensive line of the Ottawa Senators is, what high school Chris Duffy attended, or Ben Roethlisberger is left- or right-handed.

I even don’t care who Primo would vote for, were he old enough to vote.
And yet? He continues to regale me ceaselessly with all this information, and more.

Just so you know:
He’d have voted for Rick Swartz, and not Dan Onorato, for county controller.
He’d have written in Bill Peduto for mayor, too.
He doesn’t get why I voted for Cathleen Bubash, but fully concurs with my choices of McVay, McCarthy, and Williams, for judge of Allegheny Court of Common Pleas.
He thinks Len Bodack is not a nice man, and that he should concede to Patrick Dowd before the county verifies the race results. After all, he is convinced that Patrick won.
And he’s very glad Heather Arnet will take Patrick’s seat on the school board, because it’s really important who’s on the school board since he goes to the public schools and they run the public schools.
And shouldn’t we take our yard signs down now that the primaries are over?
Why don’t people take down their Bodack signs now that he lost?
He just doesn’t GET IT.

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I am beginning to prefer the company of my goldfish, who may be boring but at least he stays in one place, and he’s quiet.

Except lately, even he’s been making these weird “bloop, bloop, bloop” bubbly sounds...

11 comments:

nutmeg said...

I hear you!

We are enacting that line from that song "... you gotta keep 'em separated..." I should know the band - the tune is playing right now in my head.

Anyway, my girls are fighting over EVERYTHING! It's making life somewhat difficult. At the moment the eldest is out with her dad and the youngest is at home with me. Peace reigns until they return .... ;-) It's just reinforcing my "No More Kids" rule!

TLB said...

Oh, my god, I'm exhausted just reading this.

Don't you get a medal of some kind?

Stomper Girl said...

This post was hilarious but also very tiring. I now need some peace and quiet and maybe a little lie-down.

Incessant kid-noise is another reason to love, love, my iPod. You really can't hear the kids, especially if you sing along.

Suse said...

Boys and their knobs, um I mean switches. Son #2 doesn't have a volume switch either and Son #3 doesn't have an off switch. Son #1 barely has an on switch, he talks so little.

And as for boys and their KNOBS. Well, when do they get old enough to leave them ALONE? (Did you get that, or do you have to be English?)

Katya said...

I now need my alone vacation more than ever! You want another baby because you're hoping against hope that this time it will be a girl?

Miz S said...

Your kids are funny. Especially Primo. Where did this obsession with local politics come from?

Velma said...

Does it help to know that while I've been sitting here reading this post, Pepper has interrupted me no less than 3 times to repeat to me verbatim what has just happened on the television screen? Which I am, coincidentally, sitting 5 feet away from? And that Peanut is naked for the second time this morning?

Loretta said...

You've brought back lots of exhausting memories. Check out this family guy you tube video for more of the same.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=JdQfwB3LNnw

Poppy Buxom said...

My kids, being Aspies, were both late talkers. And I spent six years driving them several towns away for speech therapy. And they're still not out of the woods.

But the bright side was no terrible twos, no "No!" no "It's not faaaaaaair!" and no baseball (or local election) statistics. For which I am deeply grateful.

Sarah Louise said...

Wow. I didn't even discuss local politics until I was 24!

Babies are fun, but they do grow up...I'm just saying. (Which you did, pretty eloquently.)

I think the mom-medals are on back order.

paula said...

I'm not laughing AT you.

I'm laughing WITH you, in about 15 years...

Oh, and just be glad they're still small enough to pick up and put in their rooms.