Today I wanted to sell them to the highest bidder.
How many times can I tell Taryn to keep her hands off her brother?
How many times can I tell Trevor to use his words and stop crying.
Don't try and guess. I don't have an answer. No way I could
keep counting and repeating myself at the same time. I'm no magician.
My sage advice slides off of them like they are made of Teflon.
I want them to be made of fly paper.
This advice is good. It would keep them from hearing me yell.
We all want to stop hearing me yell. Especially me.
I want them to play together...until they play together.
Then I want to banish them to their own rooms for the rest of forever.
How hard is it to get along? They love each other.
They are both fun,nice kids.
It should be like easy math.
1 nice kid + 1 nice kid + love + toys = FUN!
Should be like that. It wasn't. It was evil geometry proofs instead.
Are there kids in there playing or is that an illegal cockfight?
I can handle it.
My brain knows that.
My lungs don't.Breathing is hard. My eyes don't. They see red.
I don't think I have the patience for this.
I don't think I can say the right things. What do you say to frenzied birds in a cockfight?
Time-out is useless. Unless its for me. I definitely need a time-out.
Time out of the house, to be specific.
Counting the hours til bedtime. That makes me feel awful.
What kind of mom am I?
I know the answer.
The regular kind.
The kind with real kids. Good, bad, and in between.
But, those kids, even on this way awful, crazy day
found time to tell me they could never live
without me.
I'm holding onto that. The one moment in my day where my kids were more like kids than wild game hens.
Please God, give me back my little angels tomorrow.
I would be much obliged.
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