There is a road near my house that takes our van up and down a nice long hill. In my informal poll of local moms, I have learned that more than a few of us "do the roller coaster" on this hill. Just as the car crests the hill, the kids put both hands up in the air and the passengers go "WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" all the way down to the bottom.
In my car, apparently there is an age limit to enjoying this little ritual. Once you are a school kid, you are entirely too cool to take part.
So I've got two roller-coaster riders left, and when it's just the three of us driving around, I can safely take this road. Or so I thought. Yesterday, I experienced yet another example of how ridiculous motherhood actually is.
Ellie has decided she hates "WHEEEEEEEEEE." Maybe since she just interviewed for Kindergarten, she is preparing for that life-changing event by shedding her little-girl ways. Lulu still loves "WHEEEEEEEEEEE," as any self-respecting 2-year old should.
So I'm approaching the hill and the two of them are sitting behind me strenuously lobbying for me to do their bidding:
Lulu: "Go wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee mommy! Go wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Ellie: "NO WHEE MOMMY! I HATE WHEE! NO WHEE MOMMY!" (She gets all caps cuz she's 2-years older and therefore just that much louder.)
Back and forth they went, each of them on the verge of tantrum, should my decision not go their way. For my part, I was really wishing I had taken a different road. I drove as slowly as I could, racking my brain for the best way out of this situation. Who was likely to make my life more difficult if she didn't get her way? Who would scream for louder, for longer? Who do I NOT want to piss off right now?
These are not the kinds of questions that a thoughtful mother wants to have to ponder. I would prefer my parenting decisions to revolve around something other than avoiding misery. But this is the hand I was dealt, so I played it.
It doesn't matter who was happy with my decision and who decided I am the worst mommy ever, because the next time I take that road (since I will forget in a week or two that this little interlude took place), I'll just have to turn the tables and make the other one spitting mad.
Two people wanting two diametrically opposed things to happen: they can't both be happy and one of them is going home mad. I, the mommy, will be responsible for and subjected to the resulting wrath. Welcome to my life. Ridiculous, no?