2 April, 2012  |   7 Comments

Failed murder breeds success

A Twirly Sunday

I yelled at them this weekend all right.
I yelled and pointed and sighed with exasperation.
I said unkind things.

“YOU ALWAYS DO THIS.”
“I’M SO SICK OF…”
“DOESN’T ANYONE SEE HOW HARD I WORK? WHY CAN’T YOU APPRECIATE THAT?”

(Martyr alert.)

A Twirly Sunday

Because I was lazy getting them to bed,
the girls stayed up too late on Friday. 
So did I.

As you know, grown ups and toddlers really aren’t much different when it comes to sleep deprivation.

So I spent the rest of the weekend keeping these wild, sleep-deprived kids apart with the broom.
As they tried to kill each other.
Just kidding about the broom.
Mostly.

Hot eyed,
screamy
little girl murder.

That’s right, murder.
Your children don’t try to kill each other?
Mine do.

A Twirly Sunday

I tried to kill my sister.
Pretty regularly.
So maybe it’s our family legacy.

A Twirly Sunday

A family legacy of failed murder.
That’s success, right?

A Twirly Sunday

Then I remember we’re just animals.
Sweaty,
eating,
mating,
pooping animals who need enough sleep.

I really need enough sleep.
(You too.)

Murder doesn’t really play into those animal drives.
Just like the platypus, just like the virus.
(Viruses have one up on us, they don’t need as much sleep.)

A Twirly Sunday

My instincts up there,
pulling the levers behind my eyes,
help me breed these people into adults and
keep them from killing each other on purpose.

They get fuzzy when I’m too tired.

What’s my point?
If I haven’t murdered anyone in my family on purpose today,
if I don’t let my kids do it either.
At least for right now, I’m doing okay.

I’ll raise the bar after I’ve taken a nap.

Dancing on a Sunday

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7 thoughts on “Failed murder breeds success

  1. 1
    alison says:

    My sister and I (who are 1.75 years apart) tried to kill each other pretty much until I went to college.

  2. 2
    Sarah says:

    It is probably a mark of civilization just how few fratricides there are these days…
    The only person I have ever struck in anger, in an I-want to-kill-you rage, is my younger brother. We fought with fists for years. It’s kind of amazing how siblings can still push each others buttons years later.

  3. 3

    When I was about the age of your oldest, I had a small growth on my arm. Not a pimple, not a wart, but a something that my mother put medicated, gotten-from-a -doctor cream on every night. To no avail. The one day, my older sister and I got into a fight and she scratched me. Scratched that small growth right off my arm, excised it perfectly and didn’t even leave a scar.

    • 3.1
      Helen Jane says:

      Brilliant! Thanks sister!

      I have a tiny graphite tattoo on my stomach from a 28 year old pencil stabbing. Wish I could trade it for free skin service.

  4. 4
    Jen says:

    I grew up with a younger sister, and it is a miracle that we are both still alive. I laugh every time someone makes a comment about girls not physically fighting with each other…siblings are siblings!

    (My sister has a scar on her hand from when I “accidentally” threw a butter knife while emptying the dishwasher.)

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