Raw Drip

Know one ever tells you that you’ll spend much of your time as a parent holding back a flood of unspoken words – most of them angry or sarcastic.  At least, that’s how it is for me.  Maybe I’m in the minority here, but between all the stuff I don’t say to Dick so I can continue to remain married and all of the stuff I don’t say to my children so that I can delay the inevitable therapy bills until, at least their teen years, I spend a good deal of each day mentally slapping my hand over my own mouth to stifle the bitchy woman within.

As Adam complains for the eighty-zillionth time about some aspect of the meal I’ve just prepared and served him:

• What I say:  “I appreciate your comments but less complaining, please and more focus on eating your meal…”
• What I really want to say: ”…because if I hear one more word out of your ungrateful little mouth, it’ll be the last meal you ever eat!”

As Dick asks me where the mustard is while standing in front of an open refrigerator door – mustard in plain view:

• What I say:  “Mustard’s right up front, dear…”
• What I really want to say: ”…By the way, I can’t tell if you’re more blind than stupid, or more stupid than blind, you clueless robot.”

As Tabitha uses her hitting hands on her big brother:

• What I say:  “Tabitha, we don’t use hitting hands, only gentle hands. Please stop and apologize to your brother…”
• What I really want to say: ”…Alright!  You go, girlfriend!  I’ve been wanting to smack that little punkass all day long.  Next time, really lean into your punch.”

As the children complain about going to bed at night:

• What I say: “I know how you feel.  It’s hard to turn off your body and go to sleep, but getting your rest will give you lots and lots of energy to play tomorrow…”
• What I really want to say: ”…Besides, if you don’t stop your incessant yammering and go to bed soon, I may fall on you in an exhausted heap, accidently suffocating you under all of my mommy blubber.  Now, you wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”