Triplet Trouble

I love my kids.

I do.

I really, really do.

It's just that, at the present moment in time, I need to remind myself of this fact several times a day - because they are getting on my last nerve. It's not really that they are spectacularly different than other seven year olds. It's not even that they are more special or more clever or more cute than their peers (although, of course, we know that they are.) It's just that, right now, they are the single most irritating people on the planet. What's more, they've taken this triplet thing to the extreme and they are not only individually annoying, they are annoying as a group. Once, twice, thrice annoying.

Part of it is just age-appropriate boundary testing - as in, if I keep whining and annoying my Mum about this, will she eventually snap? Short answer: YES. Part of it is just that DH and I have raised them to be independant thinkers, so they have a natural tendency to question authority and demand fairness at every turn. The main problem of course that life is not fair. DS has yet to figure this out, though, so his current habit is to disagree with everything DH and I say. "This plate is hot, be careful!" "No it's not." DD1's main issue is that she believes that she works harder than the entire world. Once a week she has to set the dinner table. Every week, she asks for help...because, you know, it's really hard to fold 5 napkins. It takes her 4 times as long to complain about it as it does for her to actually complete the task. DD2 is actually the least annoying of the bunch, except for her new habit of turning everyone into vampires (via biting them of course) and breaking into strange accents. What can I say, it's just one long party in our house, unfortunately with no alcohol or pot to dull the pain.

So let's look at a few examples of why the kids are giving me some serious cause to go and Google "child free holidays" all afternoon.

The Undies On The Stairs: A couple of days ago, some kid took some clean laundry up the stairs (this in itself is an act of miracles, but I digress..) On the way, they dropped a pair of bright yellow undies, which landed on the floor at the bottom of the steps. Said kid either missed it or ignored it, but the end result was those undies sitting at the bottom of the stairs for TWO DAYS. Yes. Myriad children (and husband) went up and down those stairs six bazillion times and yet not a soul picked up those lonesome yellow undies. Me? I noticed them. I ignored them, to make a point.

You know how frustrating it is when you are trying to make a point about people leaving their stuff around, and a) nobody notices the stuff and b) nobody notices the point you're making? It's VERY IRRITATING. Eventually I lost the plot and shouted, "Okay, surely I am not the only one here who sees the undies on the floor? Surely?" To which three kids answered, "Undies? What undies?" I kid you not. Is it no wonder I find myself Googling "adult only vacation ideas?"

The Strawberry Incident: A couple days ago DD1 and DS stood at the kitchen counter, eating strawberries out of a punnet. They finished the whole thing and left the empty box and a trail of green tops on the bench...and wandered away. I called back DD1 and asked her to clean it up, to which she replied she didn't eat any, it was all DS. Considering I stood, ohhh, six inches away and watched them eat them...this wasn't going to fly with me. I made her go and clean it up, and on the way she mumbled something about "I always have to clean up! I'm not cleaning DS's messes too!" A couple minutes later I came back to find the box gone, and exactly half of the green tops still on the counter. I kid you not. Is it no wonder I find myself Googling "one bedroom houses, Melbourne"?

The Lunch Bag Complaint: One of the things which is bothering me is how ungrateful my kids seem. Don't they realise what a cushy life they have? Short answer: No, of course not. They just have zero concept of how good they have it. On Fridays the kids' school has hot dogs on offer (there is no other hot lunch available). So I give them one paper bag with their hot dog order, and one with some items for snack time. Because I am the best parent in known history, I often write them a note on the bag. The note is sometimes their name written in a funny way, a joke, a silly picture, whatever. It's become something they really look forward to. However a bit like blogging, sometimes I find I just don't have my lunch bag mojo. Such was the case this past Friday, when I could think of nothing witty. So on DS's bag I just wrote, "Have a great day! I love you! Love, Mum" with a nice smiley face.

Yes. Well. DS was not impressed. "I want a picture. Will you draw me something? Put more stuff on my bag! The girls got more stuff on theirs! Mine is so booooring!!" I nicely, calmly said no. I even - (best parent ever, remember?) - took the time to explain that I was pretty tired and that I was sorry but I had no patience or creative juices to write more on there. The complaining, however, proved to have a stronger will than I did, and it continued on. And on. And on. And on....until such time as this parent did what any other parent would. I said, "You're not happy with it? Okay!" and scrunched it into a ball and threw it across the room. Sadly, this lost it's effectiveness when I realised it would be ME picking up the paper ball later. I kid you not. Is it no wonder I find myself Googling, "one woman boat trips to the middle of the ocean"?

....and then there are the fights which I break up (because, you know, they sound and look like they are killing each other) only to have one of them bob up and complain, "MUM! We're playing! You interrupted the game!"

...then there are the fights I don't break up (because, you know, I don't want to be accused of interrupting the game) and within minutes someone comes to me with a bruised elbow, poked-out eye, or bloody scrape on their shoulder complaining that I did not 'save' them from their siblings. Ooooyy.

...and then there are the children who cannot remember to take a sweater with them to school, but who complain bitterly when you don't remember to bring them an after school snack.

....and then there are the children who refuse to do their readers with me, because DH (apparently) asked them to do it with him. Of course when DH comes home, all readers are suddenly forgotten, which means that in the morning I've got a jolly great complain fest because they "forgot" to do their reader and I didn't remind them.

...and then there are the turkey sandwiches which they love on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday but then inexplicably hate on Thursday. How could it be that I "didn't remember" that they don't like turkey sandwiches?

I think you're getting my drift here, people. The edge of my rope has been reached and I am hanging on, precariously, by the itty-bitty thread at the end of it.

Just when I think I've really, truly had enough (Google search term: remote islands) DD2 calls me into the bathroom, to show me this creation:



*sigh* Good thing they're so damn cute, otherwise: Google search term: triplets for sale.