After our day trip to Snoqualmie yesterday, Lokes and I had been at a loss at what to do this weekend. Never thought I’d say this but I wish the holiday season would be over already so we can just go back to our ‘normal’ routines. At least then Lokes would be out of the house and out there actually earning his keep (and I can read my novels in relative peace and not having to deal with yet another “So, where to today?” ).

We had one of those discussions again, about Raeven misbehaving and how we always seem to be mad at her, and how this would affect her 20 years down the road when she hates us and wants to put us in a home, but that it’s all very normal behaviour now for a four-year-old so we should just take it easy and do our best to maintain our sanity and not yell at her too much for slamming a door at her two-year-old sister’s face for fun.

“Is there a website that tells you exactly the crap we have to look out for, each year?” my dear husband asks over a late lunch of green tea and yakisoba.

“Yes, there is. I’ve read them all,” I reply, pulling Raeven’s jeans over her panties in a sea of foodcourt patrons while Skyler inhales fried noodles up her nose.

“Do they tell you how exactly we should deal with this crap?”

“Just accept the crap, that’s all. Just be thankful it’s all been documented, so it’s not just our daughter who’s full of crap. All the other kids her age, they all go through the same crap.”

The man looks away like he’s going to cry but he’d say it’s just the hot noodles.

“We’ve not even reached the crucial years yet, man,” I add.

I swear, I saw a tear escape.

It’s definitely getting more challenging, this parenting thing. Now I get why some parents wish their kids never grow up. Me, I’m one of them!

I mean, what the hell am I going to do when they stop being cute and become just plain pains in my arse? Now I have their beautiful faces and silly antics to make it all worthwhile. The baby pictures are not going to work forever, not when they’re like 12 and screaming to be left alone and slamming their doors at MY face when I don’t buy them the latest sequined pink thong or God knows what kind of half-assed – literally – clothing will be in fashion come 2014.

Welp.

At least I’ll have all you moms to bitch to!

God save the Internet!