Gathering of Freaks

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My kids are freaks.  Oh, they come by it naturally enough.  Goodness knows that both my husband and I, freaks in our own right, come from a long line of freaks.  In my family we have a penchant for falling UP stairs rather than down stairs (our gravitational fields work differently than most) and family feuding seems to be some kind of hobby.  And my husband’s family? They are all freaky nice.  Aren’t in-laws supposed to be crazy, possessive, intrusive, meddling sorts?  Mine aren’t, they are nice and THAT is down right freaky!  

Oh in many ways my kids are very normal kids.  They are bright, beautiful, kind, compassionate, loving and thoughtful.  Until they are all put together in the same room that is.  Then I don’t know who, or WHAT, they are.  Something happens and they turn into crazed, out of control monsters whose sole purpose is to pummel their siblings and drive me crazy.  Trust me, crazy has seemed pretty appealing on some days.  There have been times when I have begged someone to put me in a straight jacket and throw me in a padded cell.  Oh, the peace and quiet, 3 meals a day that I don’t have to make, nobody to clean up after and no sensory overloads.  

It’s my fault that my 2-year-old looks like a freak, albeit a very cute freak.  I haven’t yet been able to bring myself to cut his hair.  It is curly and grows out instead of down like some kind of halo gone wrong. Flat on top and Friar Tuck around his ears. 

The other day I was vacuuming the family/living/dining/playroom (it’s a multi-purpose room. I gave up on the whole “adult space” thing) and all three of my kids were chasing the vacuum cleaner like rabid dogs less the foaming at the mouth part.  Really isn’t vacuum chasing something better left for the family dog? 

My oldest should it ever make the papers, would be world renowned for her temper tantrums.  Scientists would come from far and wide to marvel at her stamina and volume. 

The nail in the coffin on the whole “My Kids are Freaks” though was when after an afternoon working quietly in their room on facemasks they came down the stairs wearing them.  My husband curiously asked “how are you keeping those masks on”.  To which they replied “We glued them”. 

…..I rest my case. 

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