I Accept That

Kids equal drama. Period.

Now they aren't the same "drama" as that bitch from high school everyone remembers. But they are drama nonetheless.

They can test the limits of my sanity and make me question everything I ever thought I cared about. Like seriously, how much sleep do I really need?

Oh who am I kidding? A lot. I need a lot of sleep. Do I get it? No. Do they? No. So what usually follows? You guessed it!

Drama!

There is no drama like that of a sleep deprived four year old. There's no test more grueling or more mentally taxing than trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind that long-drawn-out-barely-audible-whine-between-sobs that my daughter produces when she is pissed off and tired.

And God forbid I mumble a confused what? At the end.

As her mom I am apparently supposed to be connected on a deeper level than what I originally thought. I mean yeah, when she hurts, I hurt. When she's happy, I'm happy. But telepathy? Come on now. I am not a mind reader and she hates it. I accept that.

In a way I totally get where they are coming from. I mean I would be over the moon excited if throwing a hellacious tantrum in the middle of my bedroom got me everything I desired too. In short, however, life doesn't work like that. In fact, life gave them a mother more stubborn than them. They can scream until they explode for all I care.

Sometimes they don't get to wear the jeans they want because I didn't do the laundry yesterday. This may be the end of their world, ya know? Doesn't matter that these jeans are clean. They are slightly baggier than the other ones.
They hate them and me for making them wear them. I accept that.

Mornings like this they sulk and watch me from afar with a death stare that truly rivals my own. I can feel the anger resonating off of them from a room away. I don't know whether to laugh or be terrified of what's to come. Let's face it, I made them, it was bound to happen eventually, but this soon?

I never prepared myself for the day I would unknowingly compete for the last word with my ten year old. But, that happened yesterday.
I never gave thought to the day my six year old would become so emotionally sensitive that she would cry from me asking her what she just said. But, my daughter is a sensitive soul.
It never crossed my mind that one day my kid would look at me with a meaner face than my own. But every one of them have and I realize they all get it honest.

My kids are full of attitude. Piss and vinegar some may call it. Even when they push me to my breaking point, I couldn't be prouder that each one of them speak their mind. I'm raising kids with backbones. So drama naturally follows. I accept that.

I've come to realize a few things about drama because of them. Family drama is usually produced from love and can be a wonderful thing. It can be an opportunity to grow. Outside drama usually stems from jealousy and is the complete opposite. It hinders and can sometimes even kill relationships.
That's why sometimes I intervene and sometimes I let it unfold. Family drama still makes me behave like a crazy person and mostly lands me the title of "Meanest Mom Ever." But, I accept that.