A Little Cheese with that Whine

I am not a drinker.  I have never even had the desire to be.  In fact, the smell makes me nauseous and I hate the whole culture around it.  I just don't see any attraction to the vice.

That being said, I think that it is a very good thing that I have been brought up with the Word of Wisdom in my life and that I shy away from those addictive substances that are laid out there-in.  There are days that really make me understand why there are people who drink.  There is something inviting about the thought of drowning out reality and numbing the senses for a brief moment in time.

This will bring me to my next thought, that of whine.  Something so very different and so very similar.  The longer it goes on, the more robust and powerful it becomes.  At least for my children.  I believe they have it down to an art.  I am sure that every parent feels that way, but after an hour of baths and the bedtime routine, I am sure that mine take the cake.  What is so horrible about washing one's hair?  "BUUUUUT MOMMMMM!"  and "I already WAAAAASHED it!" are chorused throughout the entire hair washing experience.  My nine-year old, with hair down her back, needs occasional help in getting everything washed and rinsed.  But of course, WHYYYYYYYYY would I need to do this????

There is a certain tone with whining.  It isn't pleasant (much like the alcohol smell to me) and it really grates on my nerves.  It ebbs and flows, and it is all I can do to keep my patience with it.  That nasal tone makes me want to pull out my hair!!

Now, they are tucked in their beds, curled up in their blankets, hugging a doll or stuffed animal.  Their eyes are closed, eye lashes fanning on their cheeks.  Freshly washed and sweet smelling, the whining becomes a mere memory and I don't feel quite like running to the local wine store to drown out the chaos and turmoil...at least until tomorrow.