DS1 is lying on the family room floor whining because DH wants to take him out for a bike ride. He doesn't want to do it now, he wants to do it later. Later it will be 110 degrees, so that's not really an option. DS1 is just grumpy because I turned the tv off. I turned the tv off because I specifically told them, "No Disney, Nick, or Cartoon Network today, at least not when I 'm around," they've been watching non-stop since we got home from MA... I've had enough. They ignored me completely, so I turned the tv off. Too bad for them.
No more yelling from me, now. Today's resolution is to tell them to do something once, and if they don't do it, I'll get off my ass and walk over to them and more calmly insist that they do what they're told. I have to act, not nag, if we're ever to get out of this pick-pick-pick rut we're in.
Lately I find it difficult to deal with some people. Both IRL and online I interact with some people who are brazenly passive-aggressive, obstinate, and oh-so-sure that their world view is 100% correct and anyone who disagrees with them is not just wrong, but irredeemably stupid. These people have their coterie of fans, too, because they are passionate and articulate and write very, very well. I admire the writing ability of these people, but the attitude just sets my teeth on edge.
But I still go back and read their stuff, or I endure long phone conversations (although yesterday I used the handy excuse of rowdy kids to duck out.) There are a lot of reasons I do this. IRL, there are kids' friendships involved, and years of history. For the online stuff, I have no excuse. Why do I read stuff from people who irritate me? Sometimes I tell myself it's good to have an understanding of how people like that think, but it doesn't further my understanding, and I don't want to lump a group of folks into some amorphous "thinks like that" category. I resist such deceptive, facile characterizations...
I think some of these people need therapy (or medication). [Fully aware there are times when I need therapy, or medication.] It's all I can do to bite my tongue and not tell them. But maybe I should tell them. That leads to a big internal monologue regarding my motivations for telling them, which would be misinterpreted regardless of how kindly I try to phrase the suggestion that they get some help. So I don't bother.
I need to look to my own self and sanity before worrying about other people's, I suppose. It would probably help me if I didn't purposely go looking for things that annoy me.