Can't We All Just Get Along

Oh so relaxed and calm.  No MOMster in sight.

In January, the hubby and I went away on our first real vacation without kids for our 10-year anniversary.  We went to a fabulous resort in Zihuatanejo, Mexico and had seven days of nothing but relaxation time.  My husband actually said, "You're like a different person.  I haven't heard you yell once this week!"  And oh my gosh, he was right.  So so right.

If only they were this nice to each other all the time!

But these girls.  I missed them, but I knew I needed this time to recharge.  I love these girls so much.  With my whole heart.  My whole soul.  I only want the best for them.  For them to be truly happy...  with themselves, with their lives, with each other.

When they're happy, I'm happy.  But when they whine, cry, tattle or fight with each other, which really is on a daily basis lately, I feel like I'm going crazy.  Like I'm losing my spirit and my mind.  My voice raises another octave, I start calling them by their full names and before I know it, my MOMster has come out.  Time outs are given, they're separated into different rooms and all I want is peace and quiet.  Quiet from all the screaming, the crying and all the sister fighting.

My big girl is emotional.  Lots of feelings.  She gets annoyed very easily by her little sister.  Sometimes she can't control those feelings and when she tries to bottle them up, they come out like a geyser.

My little girl is the physical one.  She defaults to pushing her big sister around when she's mad.  She knows how to push big sister's buttons and boy does she do it often.  But she craves her big sister's love and adoration, which sometimes big sister is too annoyed to give.

But when they do get along?  It's wonderful.  When they show patience with each other?  I feel proud.  When I wake up and find them snuggled together on the couch watching Sunday morning cartoons?  My heart melts.  But crap.  The fighting.  When does it end?  Does it ever end?  It has to end.  It has to.  Friends, please tell me it ends.  Please?

Last night as I was tucking in my youngest after a particularly difficult day full of sibling fighting, she said to me "Mommy, I'll try to be better tomorrow."

And it hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.  I kissed her little face, hugged her tight and said "Me too baby.  Me too."