Because it's not all hearts and flowers around here...
It was a good weekend, Saturday, we had a "friend" birthday for Jessica and Glennys. Which was lovely, good friends, my sister Aimee came over with her boyfriend. Aimee is living in Belgium these days, getting her PhD, so I haven't seen her in a while. My mother and sister Mandi both came as well. Aimee is my stepsister, so she wasn't quite as open about rearranging my house as both my sister and my mother were.
For some reason, both my mother and my sister Mandi believe firmly that I live a life filled with clutter, and spend most of their time when they're here putting things away. Things I like not put away. For example, I like my dishwashing detergent on the side of my sink. My sister likes it under the sink. I like my hair stuff on the bathroom counter, my mother likes it in a drawer. I still don't know where they put my cinnamon/sugar mixture - I had it in a little tupperware container by the coffee filters (which I like to keep next to the coffee pot, they like them in the cabinet). So I've spent the last 36 hours or so trying to find all the stuff they put away. Which, honestly, did nothing to improve my morning.
Then my Sammy boy had issues. Going back to school after a vacation is never easy for him, and it wasn't easy today. I had him set to go - he had pulled himself together after the initial freak out, got dressed and ate and was out the door, but then he ended up late because of snow removal issues. Being late is NOT OKAY in his world, and he flat out refused to go. Since he has proven more than capable of screaming for hours when we force him to go, I just gave up and brought him home. Where he devoted himself to torturing his sister.
I'm exaggerating, kind of. He wasn't torturing her, so much as he was playing with her in ways she didn't appreciate. If you don't play her way, Julie has developed an ear piercing screech that's not at all pleasant. It's effective - I'll grant her that. Because if the kid on the receiving end doesn't immediately stop or give her what she wants, I'll start yelling at the older kid to just make the noise stop. Effective. And has the added bonus of making me feel like a crappy mother, because really, it's not fair. She's getting her way because she's freaking LOUD.
I liked Jessie today. Mostly. She was good. There's the grumpy voice in my head that's saying it's because she left here nine hours ago and hasn't come home yet, because she's got school and then religious school. But really, she was great this morning. Other than the one fit, when she claimed that Sam was insulting her because he said he had shoveled yesterday. He wasn't. She still wanted him punished, and was most disturbed when I failed to appreciate how victimized she felt. Because he said he had shoveled.
See? Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy. And it's not beneficial for anyone. Really. On the upside, my mother and sister love me, and while I adore them profoundly, I'm also glad it's usually me visiting them and not the other way around. And someday I'll find that cinnamon and sugar container, and it will be a good day. And ten years from now, it's not really going to matter if Sam went back to school on Monday or Tuesday, and if anything, this just gives us the added incentive to make sure the little bugger is at school before the bell rings. Julianna... it's tough to find a bright side to the screech - but she's strong willed and emotive and able to express herself. No worries about her not being able to stand up for herself, right? And my Jessie, oh my pretty Jessie. I think she just wanted to fuss a little bit, get a little attention. And I missed her all day long. That being said, if you don't like that your brother gets positive attention for shoveling and you don't, go out and shovel along with him.
Here's hoping for a better tomorrow...