I believe there is a book called Don’t Stress The Small Stuff right? I believe I even read it back in the day. It’s true, worrying about every little thing can be paralyzing. But what if let the little things that you are not stressing build up into a dirty bomb of annoyance and anger? Yes, I believe I am feeling it these days and I am simply chalking it up to the culmination of irritation. Tick, tick.
We all have several things that bother us every day. That’s not news. For those of us who are parents, I have to say, those several things multiply faster than the cost of buying Diaper Genie refills. Why? Because you are taking on the worry and problems that your little kiddies bring to the table. Oh and spoiler alert, it does not seem to bother them, so that weight gets even heavier on your already tired shoulders.
Then there is that breaking point. The point where you just mumble UNCLE under your breath because you are too tired to yell (and you don’t want the kids to know where you are).
So how many things does it take to break you? How many little things pile up before you explode like a juice box your toddler tried to open himself?
For me, there is no real number. I think it’s more like a tank. Once the tank is full, there is a period where my brain loses all form of sense and starts acting out. When I say acting, I don’t mean like on stage. No I mean being pissy, angry, cranky and salty. I don’t like being that way, but it sure does happen.
For the most part, I try not to aim the gun at others. But……I am not going to lie, I take it out on the kids sometimes. I get mad at them for the most minor infractions. Why? Because kids are experts at doing that one little thing at the exact moment you are holding back losing your shit. Did they learn that skill at daycare?
Put the boot on the wrong foot? No big deal. But when you are already late and have spent 15 minutes just getting to the boot stage and a book goes missing and the car needs cleaning off and…….well you get the point. You lash out. Your kids look at you like with that face. They are confused at why a boot on the wrong foot is such a big deal.
Culmination of irritation. It’s a thing. It happens without warning. I am sorry for the next 1,000 times it happens everyone.
So today, I figured to help purge the tank, I would just make a list of things that are adding to my frustration these days. A form of therapy so I can be ready for later on when instead of asking for more toilet paper, the boys freestyle and turn the bathroom into a literally shit hole.
25 Little Things That Are My Culmination of Irritation
Add the following 25 things up and what do you get?
- Putting bowls in the dishwasher. It’s like they were not meant to sit properly.
- Snow in April.
- Finding a babysitter.
- Keeping our stairs clean (yes they are white) but it still bugs me.
- The fact that Harry is the slowest person I have ever met to get ready for school.
- When our Rogers PVR messes up a recording.
- Socks and pants that grow holes.
- Getting a book from the library and in 3 weeks you get 15 pages in.
- The answer of I don’t know.
@likeadad me: “why’d you hit your brother for no reason?” 4yo: “I don’t know.” that answer drives me up a wall. Yes you fucking do!
— Mr. Darcy (@MisterDarcy_22) April 5, 2016
- When I forget the basement ceiling in low.
- When one book is the desired object of two boys affection AT THE EXACT SAME TIME.
- My phone.
- Keeping crumbs and stains (the boys) away from our new couch.
- I have space issues when working in the kitchen.
- Parents who park wherever the hell they want when dropping kids off at school.
- The fact that some Kindereggs stump me.
- Stepping on LEGO. This one tends to be the fire starter.
- As a home owner again, remember the joy of property tax.
- The entire process of getting ready to leave the house.
- Unloading the dishwasher. I don’t mind loading. I guess that’s a problem.
- Queen Street W going from Brock to Jamison.
- Stairs at Howard. Yes get out that tiny violin.
- Unexpected head butts when your kids want to snuggle.
- When it’s my morning to sleep in and I forget the iPad downstairs.
- Finding shoes in the shoe bin at Charlie’s daycare.
Add it all up and you get….
and all I want to do is….
Ah that did feel better.