We are all tired. That is simply all there is to it. Tired and off schedule and ready to be back home. Of course, in a few days, the children will most likely be "bored", vut that is o.k.: be bored.
I'm not a very "fun" mom at the moment. Bickering, grumping, yelling (happy) and drifting around (rest stops) are not even remotely acceptable at this stage of the game. Traffic is too heavy. Running out in the street or lagging behind is just not a good idea. I'm tempted to tether the four year old to my waist. I did it with my now grown children and once to Bright Boy, when he was nearly five. He was so ashamed. Here's this four year old with the hang dog head gently saying, "Mom, I won't get lost". We were in New Orleans five years ago. And yeah, I was afraid. That memory of that sad little face, keeps me from strapping his younger brother to my side. Bear might not even notice...just continue his ricocheting through life, oblivious. But I don't. I hold his hand when he'll let me, and otherwise send him ahead of me and holler at him when he starts careening towards traffic. Miss Muffet might have a hearing problem. Seriously, I'm starting to wonder. Everything is at a very high vocal volume with her: loud, louder, and full on yelling. In the car, it seems magnified ten fold. "Sweetheart! STOP YELLING!" Yes, ironic. I hear it and cringe.
Ugg. How to be a "kid whisperer"? That is the next task at hand for me. To train them in kindness and gentleness and by example. "Look into my eyes, so that I know you are listening."
And, no, if I told you, ___, to be quiet, I do not have to answer your question.
God willing, tomorrow will see us home.