Let me paint a picture for you... I wake up when Jack does. We watch one and a half Blue's Clues in my bed and then he wants to come downstairs. He asks for apple juice and when I give it to him, he gets pissed that it isn't chocolate milk. He didn't ask for chocolate milk. Every day I ask him if he really wants chocolate milk and every day he screams "APPLE JUICE, YOU IDIOT!!!" Ok, I added the last part. One day, in my infinite wisdom, I handed him chocolate milk instead of apple juice and thought I was one step away from the MENSA presidency.... and he chucked it at my head. I gave in and got him apple juice. He chucked it at my head and screamed for chocolate milk. I give up.
Will rolls out of bed an hour or so after Jack. Then the fighting begins. They fight over who sits where on the couch, who gets the blanket, who gets the toy that the other one doesn't even really want to play with but will fight to the death over it, what to watch on tv (when neither one will really sit down and watch anything), what to watch on Netflix online (when neither one will really sit down for more than 30 seconds anyway), who gets to sit in which chair at the computer, whose foot touched the other, whose hand slapped the other in the face once the one foot touched the other... You see my point. They fight. They start at Will's wake up and they stop at Jack's bedtime, only pausing for nap time/quiet time in between.
During nap time/quiet time, Will fights with me. He doesn't nap anymore so he gets to lay in my bed and watch tv. He is not to leave my room until whatever show is over. I threaten... I cajole... I implore. He leaves. He comes down to tell me that it is a commercial. He comes down to tell me that he has to go potty. He comes down to tell me that Olivia is super funny today. I send him up. I talk sternly. I swat him on the butt and put him back. And he comes down. Every day.
Later, Tabbi comes home and is vehemently opposed to anything I say. I remind her that she has girl scouts and she flips her lid over having a meeting. I remind her that I gave her the opportunity to quit over the summer and we had many a long talk about it, and she reminds me that she is never ever ever going to just willingly do anything in her entire life. She does her homework, and then we have to fight over her practicing the violin... this instrument that she proclaims a deep and profound love for... until she has to touch it. Then, when that is done and I ask her to watch the boys while I make dinner, she reminds me that her version of babysitting is being within 30 feet of the children, but not really knowing that for sure because her eyes are too glued to her phone to see them.
Lather.... rinse.... repeat. Every day.
I am jealous that Mark is doing something new. I am jealous that he likes it and that he gets to do new things and that he actually has something that measures his success. I can't migrate over to a new server as proof that I can accomplish something. I can't do anything but laundry, dinner and dishes, and there is no gratification in that, because I just start over again tomorrow. The alarm goes off (which is not Sonny & Cher, but rather Jack's screams of "MAMA!!!!") and my day starts again. No change, no..... oh wait, I gotta go. The boys are fighting.