I’m convinced my sons are hell-bent on making me think I am losing my mind. You see, they have apparently made some sort of pact that says something along the lines of this:
“We, as brothers, vow to show the outside world that we are sweet, loving, boys who listen to our mother and are polite, however, we vow to act like maniacs at home, for the sole purpose of making our poor, dear mother insane. This we do solemnly swear.”
In public, my sons are (generally) well-behaved. Sure, they have their moments from time to time, but as a whole, they are pretty good. My older son always offers to carry things for me in the store; my younger son enthusiastically giggles at cashiers and sweetly says “Heeeh-woooah!” as he waves to elderly people who stop to say “hi” in the pharmacy. In fact, just recently I had to take both boys with me to my doctor for a sore throat due to major springtime allergies. They sat like angels in the exam room chairs. My younger son, almost 2, actually pointed to his throat and said “Mama hurts!” while making a sad face. My older son said, in earshot of the doctor of course, “It’s ok; I’ll make you some tea later, Mommy.” The doctor said “Ohhh what nice, calm boys!” I swear they glared at me and did a quiet evil laugh together (well, maybe not, but you get the idea).
At home? AHHHHHHH!
I spend a lot of time shouting “What was that noise?!?” to the usual response of giggles followed by “Noooothiiiing!” in a sing-song voice. They wrestle. They make messes. They don’t clean up the messes. They cling to my legs as I try to cook and clean. They bicker, and I didn’t know not-quite-2-year-olds could even do this…but they somehow do. They whine that they want a popsicle. They whine that “My popsicle is melting and you need to fix it nooooow!” They chase the cat. In short, they bottle up their “bad behavior” and save it for the sole purpose of driving me, and only me, crazy.
What gives?! Has anyone else experienced this? My only possible ways to explain this is either A) They like to see me squirm, or B) They have to let off steam sometimes, and they know home is a safe place to do so. I guess I’ll just be thankful that for the most part, they’re good in public, and brace myself for the mayhem that ensues under our own roof…