And I'm Losing Control

The girls have a problem with the frequency or maybe the volume of my voice. I am constantly battling for their listening attention. Because of this, I have become my mother. I have comfortably fell into the rambling gyrations of fits and actions of a person who would otherwise be considered mentally disabled if found alone on the streets. On-lookers are aware of the fragile emotional state parents' reside when they hear the symptomatic rants of neglected or ignored mothers or fathers. Smart people cross the street to avoid any unexpected lashings.

Despite the constant nagging I shower onto my girls, they sometimes surprise me and remind me that this is, in fact, my job to repeat myself throughout the day, and it is theirs to pretend they can't hear me, and test the outer edges of my sanity.

We were walking out of the local library, books, CDs, and movies in hand. I was telling the six and three year old that their mother was going to meet us and that we were going out to dinner.

"Mommy is going to meet us here in a few minutes." I began, "Get out of the parking lot, please, Ellie. Come hold my hand. Emma, get out of the parking lot, come over by us. Ellie, give me your hand, please. EMMA! Get out of there. Come over here with us."
As the two of them began bickering over who was carrying who's books, I raised my voice to continue.

"We are going to put all of our stuff into the truck and go out for dinner with your mother, okay?"

Only the spring wind spoke between the three of us.

We reached the truck and I began placing all of our borrowed items into the vehicle.

"What are we doing?" Emma asked concernly.
"Where is Mommy?" Ellie chimed.
"What are you doing with my books!" Emma started to cry.
"Where is Mommy?" Ellie chanted.

"Girls! I just told you. We are putting the things in the truck and Mom is going to meet us here. I am really getting tired of repeating myself. I shouldn't have to, and a lot of the times, I tell you things so you are safe, like in the parking lot just now." I started my parental breakdown.

At this time, the two of them were facing my backside as I dumped our collection into the truck, I continued my lecture to the unfazed audience.

"We are dropping our things off and Mommy is going to meet us! Got it?" I asked.

There was nothing but silence between the two children.

"Now what did I just say?" I questioned their listening comprehension.
Simultaneously the two answered, "Got it?"

I slumped onto the truck seat attempting to hold back the tears of desperation.