Well, last night was a banner night in our household. I got home, and Lexi, the 2.5 year-old, was laying in her crib, soaking wet and obviously had been there for hours. The 16-year-old was in her bedroom, yelling at some friend (or ex-friend) over her cell phone, using the f-word in every sentence and screaming and banging stuff. I think she threw something against the door.
So I go into the bedroom, pick up Lexi and change her. I dressed her in a long-sleeved top that was actually the top to a pajama set, and she didn't want that at all. She started crying, refused to cooperate, and I was pretty much not going to let a toddler push me around. I made her wear the top, but in the meantime the dulcet tones of the teenager came through the wall, "Lexi, quit crying or I'll beat your face in!!" Lovely.
How does one spell misery? Are these the memories that parents have of their children? Why am I doing this? This isn't even my family.
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