DaGoddess @ 22:35

Dear Son,

I love you very much, but right now you’re irritating the hell out of me.

I’ve had to ask you about forty times to stop rifling through your Legos. I’ve asked you to take out a piece or two at a time instead of digging through and making that damn plastic-y rustling noise that bugs the living shit outta me (you do this early in the morning, too, which has often caused me to consider putting you out in the backyard — if we had one — in the dog house — if we had one).

Then there’s the repeated jumping from the couch to the middle of the living room floor. First off, it causes the couch to slam back into the wall. Secondly, you land with a very loud thud, which sounds so wrong. Third, and most important, is the fact that you are making this jump over my camera gear, landing rather close to the only “thing” worth any money in this house other than the TV or computer. How many times must I ask you to stop?

Speaking of which…the “how many times must I ask you” part…at least thirty times today, I had to ask you to turn off the light in the kitchen, ask you to come get something, ask you to do something, ask you to…I dunno…just…to…stop or do or something.

It’s hot. My back has been acting up (probably the humidity). My tooth still kills me. Work for Miss A. was cancelled today and that means no money. And really, it’s the kind of been altogether a testy sort of week or so, mainly because of the heat, the pain, and the money situation. I don’t ask much from you and normally you don’t give me much to get ruffled over. You’re a kid. You’re a boy kid at that (and in general, you’re a pretty awesome kid). You do stuff and mostly it’s all stuff I can deal with or at least ignore. I get it. I don’t mind it for the most part. But this? Today? It’s just been too…fucking…much.

So cut it out, m’kay? Cuz I’m about two seconds away from losing my shit completely. And I really don’t want to have to sell you to the gypsies. Or, Heaven forbid, PAY them to take you off my hands.

Thank you,
The Management


  1. Unless there was a serious matter which required Parenting Moments from my wife or I, we’d find creative ways of dealing with overenergetic kids that weren’t doing anything majorly wrong, other than not settling down and irritating us. Tickle attacks were common. Threats to embarrass in front of friends were another method (we had plenty of blackmail pictures). Finding ways to irritate them back was also an option at times. Yes, sometime our household resembled a sitcom worthy of Roseanne. But we learned a long time ago that keeping our sense of humor went a long way towards keeping our sanity with the kids.

    Comment by diamond dave — 2009/07/21 @ 22:56

  2. Normally, that’s how it works here. For whatever reason, we reached a breaking point today, to the point where I don’t even recall how many f-bombs I dropped. Nothing was really said in anger. More like frustration.

    I truly have little to complain about with my son. He’s a pretty laid back kid and we generally spend most of our time laughing and existing in harmony. It just didn’t work that way today.

    Again, no yelling or anything majorly harsh…merely feelings that had to be expressed before I exploded.

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/07/21 @ 23:02

  3. The price gypsies will pay for a kid is inversely proportional to the temperature. It’s a free market kinda thing.

    Comment by Jim - PRS — 2009/07/21 @ 23:33

  4. unfortunately, you are correct.

    As Miss Erin just said (about her daughter) over on FB, “I would have sold her for two sticks of gum and a paper clip.” I’d have settled for a single stick of gum today.

    He’s really not a bad kid. I was just overheated and shorted a nerve or seven today.

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/07/21 @ 23:38

  5. I think it is so funny that people threaten to sell their children to the gypsies! My girlfriend does the same thing with her daughter. Is that threat effective?

    Comment by Renee — 2009/07/22 @ 00:52

  6. it works until they’re about 4. Then you’re pretty much screwed.

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/07/22 @ 00:57

  7. If I had the money LD would be on a plane, come to play with Bree for a couple weeks…

    Somehow it’s all obama’s fault, I just know it is.

    Comment by Pam — 2009/07/22 @ 06:25

  8. Darlin’ if you didn’t have days like this… I’d seriously start to wonder if your son was a real boy. :rofl:

    Everyone has those days. And if they tell you they don’t… they lie, they lie, they lie.

    I’m just sayin’…

    Comment by Teresa — 2009/07/22 @ 10:31

  9. Pam, I’d send him, too.

    Teresa, exactly.

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/07/22 @ 11:54

  10. Thank goodness I just have cats. On the other hand Seal has been sick with the heat and had to go to the vet’s to get fluids today. Little bastard’s going to get left there every morning on my way to work to be force fed if he doesn’t straighten up Right. Damn. Now.

    Comment by Jan — 2009/07/22 @ 16:03

  11. noooooooooo!

    Poor Seal. Poor Jan. I hope he’s doing better.

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/07/22 @ 18:33

  12. Two sticks of gum and a paper clip, baby.

    Comment by Erin — 2009/07/23 @ 23:37

  13. you betcha, Erin.

    We’re up to a full collection of Legos at this point, though. He’s back to being wonderful.

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/07/24 @ 02:26

  14. Sometimes I wish a caravan of gypsies would come by the US White House. I’d have a damned clearance sale. :flag: :pirate:

    Comment by JihadGene — 2009/07/25 @ 10:17

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