Whining sucks. Plain and simple.
It grains on my every nerve.
I can’t stand it.
It doesn’t matter if it’s my 8 month old doing it because she needs something and that’s how she communicates sometimes or if it’s my 2 year old because she’s just being 2 and exercising her power.
I get it, it’s part of growing up, hell, I still do it, and should know no one wants to listen to it.
But what would happen if the kids told me what was for dinner and I just started making that annoying noise, stomping my feet, throwing toys, or biting my fingernails in protest?
At any rate, the problem is I lose patience as the day goes on.
I feel like a much better mom in the morning.
I’m as rested as I’m going to be (some days better than others), and I’m excited to see my girls’ smiling faces and can’t wait to play with them. If they give me any grief about something or are just generally cranky, I can shrug it off so much easier after some sort of sleep. If Brianna can’t make a decision about what she wants for breakfast and throws a tantrum because I told her she can’t watch TV instead, no problem, I’ll walk away, or give her a time out. If Addison would rather be held rather than going in her jumper, fine with me. I got a break. I don’t raise my voice or feel my blood pressure rise.
But, around dinner time, the whining happens, more frequently it seems, I’m tired, the girls are probably tired of me at that point, and we’re all waiting for daddy to come home so we can all have a break. (well, except for him )
Sometimes I just wish I was one of those people who could tune it all out, because the whining will continue and there’s nothing I can do about it, there’s just something I can do about my reaction to it.
So, don’t judge. That’s when, for now, the pacifier comes out and babyfirstTV comes on, and I walk away for a couple of minutes to take a deep breath.