Most recently, my kids have been giving it to me as well. Is it the, umm, "sibling rivalry?" (That term makes it sound much less obnoxious than it appears in real life.) I have found that when Natalie is away for nine hours a day during the week, the number of fights does not decrease during the remaining five hours she is present with her siblings. It just gets more concentrated.
I know, I know. It's so very unintuitive.
For instance, pretend your children have an average of fifty
altercations instances of heated discussions per day. That works out to roughly 3.5 an hour. Now, send one child away for nine hours, and you'd expect around 18 experiences in the remainder of the day, a sharp drop in the original number.
But...no. There is something programmed in their heads (programmed with a universal remote that I have no doubt already lost) that they must fit in all 50 fights. Which brings your new average to about 10 per hour.
(I guess I DID get to use math as a stay-at-home mom. My high school guidance counselor would be proud.)
And this, my friends, gives me heartburn. And I already ate all the yummy orange-flavored generic Tums and what I have left are the crappy lemon ones that taste like yellow chalk.
Thank goodness they love just as hard as they hit. (The kids, not the Tums. I have not been hit by an antacid...yet.)
But today's sudden onset of the hot spit comes from an entirely different source: scanxiety. It does not present itself in a gradual, gentle manner. It barrels down on you like a Mack truck. And I feel like roadkill. Roadkill with heartburn. You think you have a break and then it comes back in ten-foot tall waves. Waves of nausea.
Eve has scans on Friday. Must buy more Tums.