I love my children as much as you love yours, which is a lot. A ton. Infinity tons, really. But there are a few, just a few, things they do that drive me up the wall.
1. Making the same sound over and over. I don't know why it's fun to say a word or make a noise repeatedly and loudly. I always think to myself, "Don't say anything. They will stop soon" and they never do, then act totally surprised when I finally yell "CUT IT OUT!"
2. Calling me from the next room. They had not one single word to say to me the entire time I was sitting right next to them, but the moment I cross the invisible line to the next room, it's "Hey Mom!"
3. Continuing to call when I don't answer. Here's a perfect example: I'm in the laundry room upstairs, and Sean is in the kitchen downstairs. He wants to know if we have turkey. "Mom!" I hear him of course, but why would I scream a conversation from the laundry room to the kitchen? But instead of then coming to find me, he keeps calling, "Mom! Mom! Mom!" for the next 3 minutes, in which time he could have come up to the laundry room, gone back, and made himself a delicious turkey sandwich.
4. Putting the shoes next to the closet. The entrance to our house from the garage (where we usually come in) is exactly 12 inches away from the shoe closet. That means that you need to take exactly one step in the door, open the closet, and throw your shoes in. One swift, graceful motion is all it takes, yet the kids can never seem to remember the part where you have to open the door and instead throw the shoes onto the floor directly in front of the closet. No partial credit, people.
5. Watch those knees/elbows! This is more of a little kid thing but my 8-year-old still doesn't think twice about using my ribs as the resting spot for his elbow when he decides to get up from the couch. He also tends to just roll upside down and flail his legs at random intervals, usually in the middle of a board game or while watching television. This always ends up in a cat tearing out of the room and/or someone being kicked in the face.
6. Where's the turkey/lettuce/cookies/tortillas/raisins/etc. It's right there, on the second shelf, behind one other thing that you never bothered to move. I wish I could say it gets better but my husband is just as bad about this as the 8-year-old.
And of course I wouldn't trade them for the world, and even as I write this, I can't imagine them growing up and not needing me for the little things anymore. But being able to laugh at our children is really why we had them in the first place, right?