I Love My Kids. I Love My Kids. I Love My Kids.

Eric is throwing a temper tantrum. It’s one of his better performances. He’ stomping, growling and wailing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was crying. It’s almost realistic. It’s not Oscar worthy. But it might be good enough for a Golden Globe.

At seven years old, Eric is much too old for tantrums. But he’s deluded himself into believing that this routine will persuade me to allow him to stay up past his bed time and watch TV.

It won’t.

Instead of extra TV time, he ends up with a time out and no Mario Carts for two days. Now the real tears start. But I hold fast.

I love my kids. I love them more than I love sunshine. I love them more than I love summer vacation. I love them more than I love chocolate cupcakes.

But as much as I love my kids, they still drive me crazy.

My friend Erin has a boy named Jack. He’s four and is her first and only. Erin will often tell me about the latest heinous thing Jack did.

“I found Jack drawing on the dining room wall.” She says.
“Crayon or marker?” I ask.
“Crayon.”
“Amateur”, I say. “Get back to me after he’s dipped the cat in red paint.”

Erin tries again. “He tried to flush a sock down the toilet.”
I don’t even blink “Was his sister's foot still in it?”

Erin sighs. In the game of “my kids are badder than yours” I am a gold medalist.

My kids aren’t really bad as much as they are…..challenging. Yea, that’s the word. Challenging. Their favorite hobbies are pushing. Pushing each other. Pushing their limits. Pushing my buttons. My challenge is to resist the urge to push back.

Eric’s stopped crying now. He walks up to me and wraps his arms around my neck. We share a warm mother-son moment.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” He whispers.

I hug him closer. Eric turns his big brown eyes up and gazes into mine. My heart melts.

“Mom?” He says.
“Yes Dear.” I smile.
“Can I play Mario Carts now?”
“Go to your room.” I say.

I love my kids. I love my kids. I love my kids…….