Maybe I am PMS'ing. Maybe not (probably not). Come April and May of each year (or at leas the last 2), I look so forward to summer. The beach, the outdoor festivities....the mini trips, all of it. This feeling lasts about 2 months. Then the reality sets in. The reality that I will pretty much be spending 24/7 with at least 3 of my children. This is not healthy for anyone. Not them, and certainly not me..... not for my husband.
I begin to hate them by mid August. Don't gasp.....I cannot be the ONLY mother who occasionally hates her kids. I may be the only one to admit it, but I cannot be the only one that feels it. I mean...I love them always. But sometimes. a little bit of hate takes over.
Pitch represents the perceived fundamental frequency of a sound. Little girls argue in a pitch that is just decimals below "Teen Buzz". ("teen buzz", for those of you who do not have teenagers, is a high pitched ringtone that the cell phone companies created which CANNOT be heard by adults) The sounds coming from my offspring while they are arguing permeates my brain to what I can only imagine could be simulated by a serrated fire poke stick thrust into my temples. After 2 minutes of this. I hate them. Really. I want to lunge out and poke their little eyeballs out.
Their father, and my dear husband, rarely has to deal with this. Except for the 2 hours a week I escape to the movies. This should be my "wind down" time. However, God forbid I have a couple of hours to myself. Not soon after I settle in my chair with my large bag of extra buttered popcorn, and large half diet pepsi half cherry pepsi it begins. My cell phone rings at least 3 times....and then I begin getting text messages about whom did what to whom, who said what, etc. It is at this moment. I hate them. And then I hate my husband for not dealing with whatever issues they are having.