Crazy

It’s official… 

I am crazy and I no longer speak the same language as the younger members of society.  When I talk I sound just like the grown ups on Charlie Brown do.  I have become 100% unintelligible with the exception of a few (very few) choice words.  Wah waaah wah wah wah wah ice cream wah waaah computer wah wha wah candy wah waaah swimming…..  To top that off, I am finding that I am also becoming a cross between Mammy from Gone with the Wind (He'll be comin' to Atlanta when he gets his leave, and you sittin' there waitin' for him, just like a spider), muttering under my breath after the fact and a carnival barker and/or auctioneer; standing high on my soap box trying to get as many words in as quickly as possible before I lose my audience (who, let’s face it, I never actually had grasp of to begin with)

 

I came to this conclusion just recently.  It hit me like a freight train when I realized it.   I have become the clique mother that comedian’s base entire sketches on (think Bill Engvall, he’s a good one for painting this oh so scary and accurate picture).  I have become a crazy person.

The other day I was sitting on the couch enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet. Gabe and Ellie were in Gabe’s room playing “Guys” and actually getting along.  For about 5 whole minutes it was an absolute utopia, I almost had to pinch myself from believing it.   

But then…oh, but then the shrieking and the yelling and the Mom she hit me and stole my guy and the Mumma, him hit Ewwie, him hit Ewwie started and I sprang to action. 

I raced (ok, I took a few steps) into Gabe's bedroom, and there on the battlefield of the rug lay carnage of the bodies.  Yoda, Chewbacca, Batman, Woody, Nameless figure from McDonalds--  All helter skelter in sad sorrowful heaps.   The two adversaries staring one another down.  Ellie holds the item of great angst high up in her little fist (big stone creature that can eat Batman) and Gabe is dancing around her like a prize fighter ready to strike on the big night.  I assert myself in between the two of them (truly not too hard to do seeing that I am actually bigger and somewhat stronger than they are) and proceed to try to get their attention. 

And here is where it dawns on me that they cannot actually understand a word that I am saying.  I might as well be speaking Martian (although with my luck they might actually understand Martian just to spite me). 

They are now staring at me like I have 5 heads and just sprouted a flower from each (think a really scary Daisy Head Mayzie). So, in exasperation,  I launch in to my auctioneer role: I said stop it right now, give your brother back his person and go in the other room and play with babies, no Gabe you stay here you wanted this toy so badly, no you cannot have the computer, clean this mess up this room is a disgrace, Ellie you need a new diaper, come lie down and I will change you….  All of which was lost on them as well (Now think the Charlie Brown grown ups but on speed).  In my final effort, I scoop up Ellie and haul her screaming and kicking into the living room to change her diaper (now comes the Mammy part) mutter mutter mutter: all I wanted was some peace and quiet, is that too much to ask,  mutter mutter mutter..

I release Ellie back to the wild and after the requisite snacks, drinks, naps, etc..this scene may or may not repeat a few more times before Monday morning arrives.  Maybe a different scenario: different toy, room, etc; but the outcome is always predictable.  

And, the best thing about it, besides the fact that I am probably certifiable, is that this is most likely hereditary (I know for a fact that my mother is crazy too, and her mother before her (although we never saw it, but I am sure it was there), and so on and so forth).  Which means that Ellie will be feeling the same way in about 30 years and when she calls me to relay how her children don’t listen to her, I can sit back in my very very very quiet house (where breakable things are on lower shelves, candles once more live free, and dvd’s no longer fear for their souls), and tell her that this too shall pass.