Dear Child of Mine,
Stop looking shocked and pretending like you can't believe that I would say that. You will understand one day. I promise.
I have always said that parenting sucks 98% of the time, but that the 2% is so amazingly fulfilling, that it makes it worth it. Granted, that 2% is when you are asleep, most days...but goodness you look cute curled around a teddy bear. Almost cute enough to make me forget about the gum I found squished into your bedroom carpet or the clogged toilet that you didn't tell me about. For days.
But, I digress.
Child, don't you know how hard I try not to yell? Don't you understand that the cool, calm, nurse voice you are hearing is masking the boiling rage inside, fueled by your need to nit-pick at your sibling long enough to make them cry? Do you understand what happens to my brain, when you mimic me, when I ask you to stop? Don't you know that if you push me to the point of yelling, that you should be very, very, very afraid?
Now, if my yelling causes you to walk/stomp/run away from me and I have to chase you down, you better hide...and you better hide so well that I have to call the local law enforcement to find you. I promise that you are going to want police protection, when I do.
Why, oh why, must you make me turn into this raving lunatic of a person? I hate yelling. I hate taking away privileges. I hate having to remember to follow through on your punishment, when all I really want to do is have a glass of wine and go to sleep. Can't we stop the madness? Could you maybe, just maybe, listen when I talk and do as your told?
I won't apologize for yelling. Or for the consequence you now face. I won't apologize for being your parent. Just know that one day...when you have a child of your own...and you call me and vent about all the absolutely insane things that she did that day...I won't laugh. Or say I told you so.
Until I hang up the phone.