The War of the Wills

I think my children have made a pact to try to break my will.  If that doesn't work, they'll settle for inflicting as much pain as possible.  Yesterday, I shared in the following text exchange with Elise:

Me:  Dang Abrahamson climbing gene.  Gabers was on top of the freaking piano.

Elise:  Ahahaha!  Has he discovered your cupboards yet?

Me:  Oh yes.  He lurves the pantry, too.  Dang it.

Elise:  Well the pantry does have a built in ladder.  And food.  Gabers is my kinda kid.

Me:  Yeah, this behavior was so much cuter when it was Erin and Macey doing it.

Elise:  It's frustrating and yet convenient for lazy parents like me who like it when their 4 yo makes their own toast. :)

What this series of texts doesn't communicate is the twenty minutes AFTER finding Gabriel on top of the piano that I spent trying to find an alternate location for the piano bench that would prevent Gabriel from dragging the bench back into place and his subsequent use of the piano as a jungle gym.  I was unsuccessful, I might add.  There was a lot of Gabriel stomping around and yelling at me whilst dragging the bench back over to the piano.  I was to the point of considering asking the Mirror-Alfreds to store it for us (along with all of our chairs and other ladder-ish furniture), but that would have been inconvenient in the event of actual piano playing.  Or eating of dinner at the dining room table.  It was an epic battle in the War of the Wills.  And it was a draw.

I'm not a dummy, though.  I've figured out their strategy for breaking me.  It's a three-pronged plan designed to make me fold like origami.

Prong one:  sleep deprivation.  Gabriel takes the day shift, Jamie takes the night shift, and Ethan and Elijah pinch hit during the rare times that Gabriel accidentally falls asleep during nap time, which happens to coincide with their homework time (which is generally a battle in itself).  When he DOES fall asleep, it looks like this:

YOU try to sleep with those paws kicking you in the kidney.  You can't.  What is it with children and their innate ability to always be perpendicular to their parents' backs?  GAH.

Prong two:  physical torture.  Gabriel prefers straight forward hitting and stomping, while Jamie is more subtle.  I won't get into the details of her preferred method of torture, but I will say that it involves lactation and she's a lot like the miners in Galaxy Quest...you know, they're aren't MINORS, they're MINERS.  They look all cute and sweet and then they attack with brutal finality.  OOWIE OOWIE OOWIE OOWIE.

Prong three:  mind games.  I think Gabriel's been watching Shrek when I finally collapse from exhaustion, because he's taken to doing a mean Puss In Boots impersonation.  Witness:

He pulls out the cute eyes...and then he goes all Puss In Boots on me and performs some act of toddler terrorism.  Cruelly, the eyes totally hamstring me and my ability to fully utilize my naturally heartless nature.  I've said it before and I'll say it again...cuteness is their one survival  skill.

It's like I got dragged into a land war in Asia.  I'm not exactly losing, but I can't declare a solid victory, either, and most of the time I'm two steps away from unwittingly setting off a land mine.  The irony is, I'm not out to get them...I'm just trying to save them from the cruel forces of Gravity and Electricity.  Once again, I think I have to bow to the wisdom of my mother, who I swear is more awesome every passing day.  I need to...LET THE WOOKIEE WIN.  She used to mutter that to me a lot, and it used to bug the tar out of me...but I totally get it, now that I have my very own Wookiee named Gabriel.

In news unrelated to the ongoing War of the Wills,  Ethan and Elijah started school this week...

Happy-go-lucky Elijah, totally not stressed out about opening a locker.

"My stepmother is a total dork.  I hate her and her picture obsession.  She better not follow me to school!"

And now, I need to go retaliate to Gabriel's latest offensive:  Battle Silverware.  He thinks it belongs on the floor, I don't. 

Peace (I hope) out!