VivaCity

I do believe Spencer turned 14 instead of 4 last week. He's throwing attitude around like nobody's business, defying his father & me at every turn. I don't WANT to go to bed. Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! I don't WANT to go grocery shopping (although I may have said I did five minutes ago). I don't WANT pork roast for dinner. Don't wanna, don't wanna, don't wanna. Stomp, slam, you get the picture. Lord help him if he wakes up the baby, is all I've got to say.

I think it has a lot to do with vying for attention with Lord Of All He Surveys, King Julian. It's tough, folks! I'm trying my darndest here, but my #1 objective has got to be to stop JuJuBee's crying. I simply can't carry on another conversation while he throws himself at my feet, wailing and despondent. So I usually attend to him first, for peace & quiet's sake, then tackle whatever Spence has been dancing around talking about for the past fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes, by the way, equates to about 2.5 years in Toddler Time. Oh the agony of having to wait until Mommy can watch me make a silly face. Or new dance step. Or whatever. ARGH!!

So, dear boys, please know that Mommy loves you, even if I may yell in frustration occasionally or make promises to sterilize your father the hard way. I'm only venting a little steam. I'm sure you understand.