(Another post in the fascinating series that looks at the reasons behind the lameness of this blog! Please ignore if the very idea of another one makes you want to shake me by the lapels and say Stop! Stop apologizing! Enough already!)
Blogging has been on the decline here at Autonomous Source at least since March. Most blogs go through dry spells, and it's normal, but this has been the longest lame patch since I started writing two and a half years ago. My post last week listing
excuses possible explanations for this decline listed World of Warcraft at the top. While that game -- with its pretty pictures and devious design geared toward maximizing operant conditioning -- has certainly drawn away much of what remains of my attention span, the blog was pretty far down on my priority list before I succumbed to its charms. The real reason the blog spammers see this site as an abandoned house they can take over, is those kids of mine. Those adorable, infuriating children.
Can I tell you about them? They're wonderful. They're very good when something interesting is happening, like when they're at the store, or visiting a friend's house, or meeting someone on a walk through the neighborhood. They're generally pretty good at eating, and they go to bed without a fuss and sleep through the night. And they're so cute and funny.
But they're driving me crazy.
They fight. We only have one plastic garbage truck. Max thinks he owns it, so Talia needs to have it. When this happens, shrieking, kicking, pinching, crying, and biting erupts. Five times a day. We have only one plastic digger. Max thinks he owns it, so Talia needs to have it. Again, five times a day. Aarrgh!
They make demands. All the time. They constantly need something and tell me about it. No! doesn't work. They will only repeat their request. Again and again and again and again...
They whine. Their demands are all made in the whining tones. I believe this hi-hi-hi-hi-looooow speech melody is programmed into children's brains at birth as some kind of a survival tool. Children all over the world use the same intonations. But in practice, you'd almost expect it to have the opposite effect...
They don't listen. Trying to get them to follow simple directions of things they know perfectly well how to do is impossible. Talia is the worst at this. Except for Max.
They listen too much. They're both extremely literal, so they believe whatever the other says, no matter how wrong it is, or how much I deny it. If Max says, "Ta-ya not going to Oma's", as we're getting ready to go to Oma's, Talia believes him. And starts shrieking.
They yell. And bang things. And chase the cats. And pull everything out and spread it around on the floor. Or throw it down the stairs. And they get into every little place I don't want them to get into. They're much too fast.
And they fight. Oh, I already mentioned this? Well they do. They fight over food, what to watch on TV, who gets in the car first, toys, their parents attention, what book to read at bedtime, who goes down the slide first, what to have as a snack, who gets to brush their teeth first, and what they're going to be when they grow up. Anything you can think of, they can fight over it. It gets a little... grating, shall we say.
And I really don't want to talk about toilet training. But I think the process is what the word 'frustrating' was created for.
So there you have it. It's them, them! that are the problem with this blog. Not me. Although I may have 'free time' when my two charges are napping or attached to the insideous mind-control device, I'm much too frazzled and burnt-out to be much good at anything. But as soon as they grow up and become reasonable people, this blog will return to its position as an important source of wisdom for the 21st century. Tentative date for this return: February 14, 2006 -- when they turn three.