Welcome to my house.? Today, we are experiencing a little something I like to call Whinefest #1, 2008.? ? The 2008 is to distinguish this Whinefest from all the other Whinefests that occured in 2007.? The #1?? Well, that’s to distinguish it from the inevitable Whinefest #2, #5, and so on, up to about Whinefest #357.? Of course, that’s only if it’s a good year.
It’s on days like these that I feel like a really bad mom.? A terrible, evil mom, ala Joan Crawford.? It’s not that I have a thing about wire hangers.? It’s just that I have a thing about whining.
Even legit whining.? For example, today, my 4 yr old has the flu.? Do I think he is entitled to whine?? Sure.? Provided that he does it somewhere at least two county lines away from me.? Besides, this is not? your garden-variety whining.? This is whining as enhanced as the typical breast in Orange County.
In all honesty, I can tolerate a bit of whining when he’s sick.? Maybe even more than a bit.? But the whining that emanated from? that? cherubic little blue-eyed? boy today?? Fran Drescher on speed’s got nothing on him.
He whined if he was on the couch. He whined if he was on the floor.? If the TV was on, he whined to turn it off.? Once it was off, he whined even louder to turn it back on.? He whined to take a bath with my husband and our infant daughter, and then he whined that he didn’t want anyone touching him in the bathtub (okay, that sounded way more Michael Jackson-esque than it actually was—the point being, since we don’t run a bathhouse, our bathtub is not really large enough to accomodate a preschooler, a baby, and my husband without people making contact).? He? whined again? when my husband got out in a futile? attempt to stop the whining.
He whined and whined to get a Jamba Juice, of which he promptly took one sip and whined that it “tasted yucky.”? He then whined to taste everyone else’s Jamba Juice, which had to be promptly? discarded when he whined that they also “tasty yucky” and refused to drink them.
I even caught him whining in his sleep.? Something to do with smoke alarms, his striped blankie, and Thomas the train.? It doesn’t matter that I have absolutely no clue what? this means—it still gave me that feeling you get when your dog lifts his leg and pees on your brand spankin’ new Manolos (as if I ever had a pair, but I’ve got a great imagination), right after you let him out to his business.
So, basically, my husband and I spent all day trying to figure out ways to escape this hellish assault on our ears.? We actually argued over who got to run errands.? For dedicated procrastinators, there were some awfully strange conversations going on in our home.? Such as, “I’m going to run and get toilet paper.? I’ll only be gone about five hours or so.? What do you mean, you just got some?? Well, then, I’m going to run and get Thanksgiving supplies.”? My husband even tried to tell me he had to go into work.? On a Saturday?? Nice try, buddy.? I wish I had that option on the? seemingly endless stream? of weekdays when I am the sole? audience for? the Whinefesting.
From where did this Super-Whine originate?? Come and visit my husband sometime when he’s sick, and you won’t have to ask.
My son is now asleep (aha, so God is finally making his presence known), and all there is left to do is pray some more.? What am I praying for?? ? That tomorrow is not the start of Whinefest #2.Share on Facebook