Toddlers Are The Worst Hell In The World.

It is not a wish I would suggest on the greatest demon himself.

It starts in the morning with “I WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT AND PARTY EVERY DAY I WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT AND PARTY EVERY DAY. I WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT AND PARTY EVERY DAY I WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT AND PARTY EVERY DAY I WANNA ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT AND PARTY EVERY DAY!” and screaming KISS lyrics might be considered artistic or cute to someone after 6 in the morning but before 6 in the morning.

It’s Not. Good.

The beds have been pissed in again because they demand so much milk and we are so worn down we keep ½ dozen bottles by our bed to shove into their gaping holes every 4 hours and even the most absorbent diaper cannot control such urine. So. Again. Strip the sheets.

He won’t eat. He won’t fucking eat. HE WON”T EAT ANYTHING EVER.

We make him popcorn for breakfast. Again.

I am a terrible parent. That’s how I feel. And I think things I’m ashamed to say out loud…but you…the one’s who are nodding right now…know what I’m thinking about.

And the shame I feel for feeling those feelings…I won’t even begin to describe, but let’s just say exhaustion + shame + anger = That quote from the Never Ending Story -“The Nothing is spreading. It’s growing and growing and soon there won’t be anything left.”

We are nothing like the parents we said we’d be – when we decided that having children would make us more spiritually enlightened to the human condition.

I find myself yelling “if you hit your brother one more time, no more TV…for 5 minutes!” Because you see, I can’t actually take away the TV. I NEED the TV. How would I get the dishes done? Who am I kidding? I haven’t done the dishes in a week. There are no clean dishes, or pants, or floors or bodies. I was just hoping to take a shit.

So… “If you hit your brother ONE MORE TIME AND I REALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME you won’t get TV for 10 WHOLE minutes!”

And for the parents out there who are like “I don’t get it? My Sally loves playing quietly with her dollies for hours on end while I meditate” you are a magical unicorn to me and Sally is a magical fairy. I’ve never seen you before and I don’t think I’d believe my eyes if I ever did.

And for the parents out there who are like “it gets better and you will look back on the chaos with fondness.” No. No. I won’t. Because you know what!? It’s only going to get worse! The drums are just going to get louder and then the masturbating starts and then I’m an invisible blog of annoyance and they don’t have the excuse of being toddlers for me cleaning up after all their shit all the time. I know what I’m in for. I was a kid too.

As I’m changing his huge man-sized shit diaper he looks at me and says “I hate you mama” and smiles.

As I’m tucking him in he says “you’re stupid mama” and kicks me on the cheekbone.

And as I bring him another “milky” he tells me “your bagina looks like a hairy butthole.”

And I’m supposed to remain calm and know that testing boundaries is a developmental milestone and it’s a good thing they are comfortable expressing their feelings- it means they feel safe- but what I want to do is…(there’s that word again) so I call again on my talisman The Never Ending Story- “Strange as it may seem, horror loses its power when repeated often.”

I don’t get it. I really don’t. And I don’t want advice. I don’t want platitudes. I want to go to a yurt on top of a mountain with nothing but Billy goats prancing about and eat grass for dinner and smell the wind and hear silence for 1 million years.

It takes a village. That’s the sentence, right? Well tell me the address of that village and I’ll send them there.

And this is not a rant or a cry for help. This is a declaration of truth that I am stating for all the other parents out who get this shit- to let them know that they are not alone and the (again. the word) is real. You are not bad. You are being torn apart from the insides (for the mama’s literally). And I am with you.

And for everyone else who doesn’t get it. God bless you…go eat a tasty taco, have a nice walk on the beach while watching the sunset, holding hands, deciding what new series you’re going to watch on Netflix tonight. You are heavenly creatures to me.

My tonight, after serving the 4th dinner option and deep breathing and a headache and a day of work behind me and another scuffle under the table for the green piece of Lego that made one of them bleed – led me to a place where I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I screamed.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

And they stopped.

“Mama, it’s not ok to yell like that, go hit a pillow or something, take some lonely time.”

So my husband takes one of them out to drum in the garage and I set up “the savior” and I lie down and write.

And I feel better. And I look up and he’s kinda cute again.

Thank you Paw Patrol. For saving my life. One more time.

Ps. And for all the pregnant mama’s out there. It’s a miracle. You’ll feel love you never felt was possible. You’ll want to die for them. Smelling them while they sleep will give you a full body orgasm. Congratulations. A merino wool onesie is in the mail.

Tonight, for me, as I lie on one tiny sliver of bed and they push for more room-  one last time, my hope, my light is TNES

“Everything will turn out right. You’ll see.” 
“I cannot imagine how” Atreyu said.
“Neither can I,” said the luckdragon. But that’s the best part of it.“Nothing is lost. Everything is transformed.”