What a Long, Strange Trip it’s Been

I’ve decided that having family visit makes me a worse parent. I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it is possible.

The thing is, when the boys are surrounded by the constant attention of family they tend to be a little louder, a little more, shall we say, non-compliant. They are on system overload and nothing short of a full meltdown can stop them.

I sit and watch their behavior, and the enablers that love them, noticing they aren’t much different than monkeys in the zoo, being fed popcorn and poked with sticks by busloads of bigger primates.

At least my boys don’t fling shit.

I miss things too. For instance, Atticus spilled my sister’s peanut butter cup shake at 31 Flavors, her first shake mind you. Granted, it was an accident, but it seems like more accidents happen around more people. When it is just me and the boys, I am focused on every nuance and transaction. Now, with the power to govern interaction out of my hands, and in the hands of numerous others, the potential for accidents multiply.

Don’t get me wrong, having family here is great. I miss them and enjoy their company. Perhaps it is because their visits are so infrequent that the behavior of the boys spikes so high. Maybe the boys know their quota for attention is pressed for time and they adapt to meet it. I suppose that could be the reason.

Regardless, it is a battle, and once again, I’m getting my ass kicked.

Something tells me that I should start carrying a white flag in my pocket, just to ensure a moments peace. Assuming they would present agreeable terms, that is.

I seriously doubt it.

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