If a picture says a thousand words, then this video is a dictionary on steroids.
I regularly gripe about the drudgery of parenting the Gremlins Three. I whine about the fights, the messes, the meltdowns, the leftover grilled cheese crusts found stuffed between the couch cushions. How I find the energy to complain that I have no energy is truly beyond me. They wear me out, day after day, after hectic, unpredictable day.
Some days - especially ones where my husband has gone out of town and I'm breaking up multiple epic battles in the living room - I'll bribe the horned wonders with something neat-o, like a program on my Macbook. Like Photo Booth. I'll show them how to use it, and before long they're snapping pictures and adding in affects like genius children.
(Which, obviously, they are, as they contain half my genetics in their awesome little bodies.)
And some mornings - especially ones when I'm exhausted from the previous night's arguments - I like to sleep in, and will mumble "Why don't you go use that cool little program on my computer for a bit and let Mommy sleep so she's not a grouchy witch all day?" And they do. And I don't get out of bed until nine, when I'm finally asked to pry a juice box out of the cupboard for Spawnling.
And some evenings - especially ones where I'm hiding in the office while they make pretend weapons and run around and throw them, cackling like maniacs and screaming anime-type things at each other, and I'm wondering how single parents do this all the freaking time - I find videos like this of Gutsy and Spawnling, taken this morning while I was sleeping peacefully in bed. And then I laugh and laugh, and can't breathe, and cry, and laugh some more:
And then, I remember that I have the most kick ass, funny, amazing little creatures living in my home.
My kids rock.
I regularly gripe about the drudgery of parenting the Gremlins Three. I whine about the fights, the messes, the meltdowns, the leftover grilled cheese crusts found stuffed between the couch cushions. How I find the energy to complain that I have no energy is truly beyond me. They wear me out, day after day, after hectic, unpredictable day.
Some days - especially ones where my husband has gone out of town and I'm breaking up multiple epic battles in the living room - I'll bribe the horned wonders with something neat-o, like a program on my Macbook. Like Photo Booth. I'll show them how to use it, and before long they're snapping pictures and adding in affects like genius children.
(Which, obviously, they are, as they contain half my genetics in their awesome little bodies.)
And some mornings - especially ones when I'm exhausted from the previous night's arguments - I like to sleep in, and will mumble "Why don't you go use that cool little program on my computer for a bit and let Mommy sleep so she's not a grouchy witch all day?" And they do. And I don't get out of bed until nine, when I'm finally asked to pry a juice box out of the cupboard for Spawnling.
And some evenings - especially ones where I'm hiding in the office while they make pretend weapons and run around and throw them, cackling like maniacs and screaming anime-type things at each other, and I'm wondering how single parents do this all the freaking time - I find videos like this of Gutsy and Spawnling, taken this morning while I was sleeping peacefully in bed. And then I laugh and laugh, and can't breathe, and cry, and laugh some more:
And then, I remember that I have the most kick ass, funny, amazing little creatures living in my home.
My kids rock.