Is it love?

Is it love that makes me want to pull my hair out in chunks? Because if you asked me, I would tell you I love my kids. Yet, they are the reason I want to pull my hair out by the roots. Is that what love is? I thought it was all mushiness and kisses on the nose and looking forward to seeing them everyday. Recently, I've wanted to run screaming from my house -- every bleeping day, as opposed to just some of the time.

They have officially entered into the "fighting all of the time" stage. It starts when they wake up and ends when they go to bed. They fight about everything ALL.THE.TIME. If one has it, the other wants it. They fight about who flushes the toilet. Who sits in which chair. If one is sitting in my lap, the other tries to wrestle the first one off. Nevermind that Mommy would actually prefer to have her lap to herself.

Shouldn't I have a few more years grace period on this kind of thing?

It wouldn't be so bad if I could just tune them out, but they are LOUD. My son has this WHINE. It's enough to make your blood curdle. My daughter has this horrible high-pitched SCREAM she lets out when she doesn't get her way. I'm glad we live far from the street, otherwise, I'd have police busting down the door to find the ax murderer on a regular basis. It would turn out that my son wouldn't give my daughter the orange crayon.

It's mostly my daughter, I know. She's two and a half. If you've experienced a two and a half year-old, you need no further explanation. If you've never experienced one, you'll have your turn. MWAHAHAHAHA. AHAHAHAHAHA. We went through a similar period just over two years ago when my son was that age. He was just a different personality (not so loud) and my daughter was an infant. She couldn't fight back as well.

I remember leaving the room for a few minutes. My then 3-month-old was sitting in her carseat (her own little recliner) happily kicking and babbling away. Her two-and-a-half-year-old brother was in the room, but I don't think he was paying any attention to her at the time. I came back in the room to see a small pile of toys with little wiggly feet where my baby used to be. Nicky had taken his chance and began piling toys on top of her. Luckily, they were all soft toys, and I wasn't out of the room for long. Laney was happy. She didn't know any better. She probably thought, "So this is how big kids play." Now, if he so much touches a toy that she doesn't want him to, it becomes an all-out wrestling match.

A friend of mine told me that growing up he and his sister used to fight all of the time. I think as they got older, hockey sticks were involved. Oh, no! Neither of my children will be playing hockey or golf or any sport with equipment that can be used as a weapon, if they can't learn to get along!

My kids in happier times. There was no fighting then. See how the youngest one's mouth is muffled?