I have pint sized teenagers.

God love ’em.

Everything I say to Payne is met with a bark of “No”, or “That’s not right Mommy” or “OKAY Okay okay…”.

But that’s pretty mild compared to the threenager next down the line.

G is in her room right now until dinner, because she was fighting with her brother. So far I’ve heard:

– “Nobody likes me. I’ve lost everything forever!”

– “I’m going to cry forever because mom is being so mean”. 

– “I hate you Mommy! I hate you hate you hate youuuuuuu.”

– “I hate this. I hate my dogs (?) and I hate everything.”

– “This is the worst day.”

  
Behold, the face of true suffering.

Maybe I should get her a journal.

And a therapist.

And some better parents. Heh.

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It has been…

a….challenging summer, to say the least. 

Heh.

To be honest, they’re eating me alive.

As evidence, I submit today’s conversation with Genevieve.

G: “Are you angry?”

Me: “No. Why?”

G: “Then why is your line coming down?”

Me: “Huh? What line?”

G: “The one between your eyes! (Points)”

Me: (starts laughing hysterically) “No, honey. I’m just squinting in the sun.”

I still love them.