This is the deal, raising kids can be the deal breaker of the century, my nerves get so shot and de-wired by my child's growing pains that the stress grips my organs and squeeses them into cancer sponges, I wish I could just live near them and have someone else (or a dog) keep them from killing themselves.
Imagine you are cooking, it's butt thirty in the morning and a little voice is demanding food.
As you cook the demand replays over and over "BEFIXT PREESE"!
I tell the boy he must wait and I give him a toy, he runs away with it and trips on a puddle of his own urine and now there is a screaming, piss covered two year old demanding to be picked up right as the cooking gets too hot to leave alone.
I pick the boy up and dust him off, save the cooking while mopping piss with a towel around my foot and the "broken record" begins again...BEFIXT PREESE"?
I tell him "Wait homeboy, I'm trying to feed you".
While I'm plating his food, he runs out the door (naked) and over to the neigbors yard to do some nude flower picking (with his elbow).
I'm glad the adults in the Feral Punk House are kind and helpful, they jump right in.
Tell ya what about my boy, he loves me.
I can count the people who really ReaLly REALLY miss me on one hand and they are all relatives, I know who loves me.