Mommy's not here anymore. Please leave a message at the sound of the beep...

It's one of those days where I am seriously contemplating packing up my kids, driving to the courthouse and changing my name.  I'm fairly certain that at some point during my hospital stays when delivering my children, some sneaky nurse came in and coyly had me sign a paper stating that I will never be "Jaimie" again.  I will only be "mommy".  I remember the days of the kids starting to talk and babble.  It was music to my ears.  And then came the day I was waiting for... the day they said Mommy (mama, mommy, ma, I'd pretty much take anything that remotely sounded like the correct word).  Fast forward 9 (or 7) years and sometimes I'd like them to forget my name.

Today is one of those days that the sound of "MOMMY" being yelled throughout the house sends shivers up my spine and blood pouring from my ears.  Ok, so maybe not the blood part... but it sure seems like it.  There are different tones in which an offspring of mine can call my name and I can usually tell what's behind the need.  There's the "I really need your help with something that I can't do by myself" call.  The "I'm bored please make balloon animals for me" call.  The "I've fallen and have a tiny scratch, but from my angle my limb is dangling from my body" call.  And my absolute favorite, the 'Why did you ruin my life by giving me a sibling who is the most annoying person on the planet and I hate them" call.  I get the last one the most.

My oldest children are the best of friends and the worst of enemies... which I know is the case with a lot of siblings... me and my brother included.  I know what it's like on the other side of the tunnel and I wish I could get those kids to realize what they have and just love each other with everything they've got.  I know that's not gonna happen, but I can wish.  It seems to me that they try to find the tiniest most insignificant thing that irritates them about their sibling and then they give me the shout out telling me what bugs them about so and so.  

We can't get into the car and leave our home without the biggest disagreement on who sits where and who's in the front or back or whatever.  Now for those who don't know, once upon a time I had a cute little Pontiac Vibe.  We had to up-size our vehicle when our youngest child was born... and it was a necessity.  We managed to squeeze the three kids into the back... strategically.  One had to go in first, get buckled and then the other two would get in as well.  And while the sardines were squished into the back seat, the older two ALWAYS fought.  "He's touching me... She's touching me... He took my _____.  She hit me".  It was never ending.  So, being the brilliant parents that Mike and I are, we decided to go for the all purpose minivan.  Two separate rows of seats, they couldn't possibly find something to fight about.  Yeah, right.  We still hear the same fights over and over, but now we added the "who sat in the front (of the rear) seat last". 

So between the car issues everyday and then coming in the house and hearing "MOOOMMMEEEY" I'm ready to check in the padded cell or go into the Witness Protection Program... or the Mommy Protection Program as the case may be.

As as I finish this, there is a beautiful but deafening silence in the house... that can't be a good thing.