Monkey Poo Flinging Day

Holy freakin’  moly.  It’s a “I need want to pop a Xanax and wash it down with a triple shot of Patron margarita” day.  Ha.  If only.  Right?  If only death wasn’t the result.

What the hell is going on today?  Everyone is driving me insane!  Everyone.  Literally.

The baby won’t stop crying.  She’s sitting in my lap as I’m typing, because if I put her down, the flood gates open.  She’s only happy in my lap.  Other than that, all hell breaks loose.

Boy got off the bus being in a mood.  This has been a great, fun afternoon with him.  Let me tell you what.  He decided in order for his homework to be done, he needed to sharpen his pencil in our automatic pencil sharpener.  So he sticks the pencil in, lets it twirl around and around, and he dances all around the office while this is happening.  Meanwhile, the pencil is not being sharpened, just twirling around and around, and is making that horrific grinding sound.  You know, the one you can just feel down to your bone?  Yeah, that one.  It goes on and on for about ten minutes straight.  I finally decide to walk in there and see what is going on and try to navigate him out of there and back towards his homework.  Only, I get to the office a second too late.  Baby Girl got there first.  And of course, Boy didn’t like that.  He slammed her hand in the office door.  Nice big brother, right?  Just what I was thinking.  So that set off the wailing sirens again.  Fun times, I’ll tell ya!

After I finally get him settled back into his seat and start to work on homework, he then pulls out his portraits from his backpack from their spring pictures they had taken at school and received today to bring home.  Big Girl tries to look at his, and he looses all control.  He looks like a gorilla with big swinging arms trying to collect them all before she can sneak a peek at the face she sees everyday.  Big ol’ Donkey Kong making grunting noises, trying to prevent his sister from seeing a picture of his mug, which turns into another fight.  I   They start batting and swinging a little, hit and miss, pencils in hand.  I may as well just have monkeys running around flinging poo at each other.  I feel like that’s what is happening anyway.  At least I may have a shot at someone listening.  The monkeys may actually listen better to me than my own children.  There’s a pretty good chance of that, actually.

After the homework battle is finally complete, we move on to the battle of the Baby Girl.  She is just walking around and around crying and crying.  Why you ask?  Why am I not holding her?  Comforting her?  Seeing what is wrong?  Oh believe me, I have.  I’ve done it all.  She’s fed.  She’s been changed.  She’s healthy.  She’s not teething.  She’s 110% happy – as long as she’s in my arms.  She is so spoiled rotten.  She will be crying so hard you’d think she needs to go to the emergency room because she looks like she has a broken bone, and then Mommy picks her up, and she’s giggling so hard and she’s so happy!  What an actress she is.  She has such a brilliant personality at a year-and-a-half old already.  I can’t stand the fact that I have to face this for the next sixteen years or so.  I have a feeling she’ll outwit me a time or two.  This one seems pretty good…I may have met my match…

And that, my friends, is quite the scary thought.

Thankfully, I have a great hubby coming to the rescue.  He’s bringing home dinner.  Yep, we’re cheating tonight.  Cheating together!  With food.  He’s bringing home takeout from one of our favorite places to eat.  Good old Glory Days.

Yum. Sauce.

A three ring f’ing circus.

Don’t get me wrong – I am not all negative all the time.  I LOVE my life.  I have an amazing life, and I laugh everyday until I cry.  I have it great.  I have the best kids and husband ever.  My dog is okay, but he can be a bastard face a lot of the times.

I just post a lot of negative things on here because this is my outlet.  This is where I vent.  I can’t vent to my kids – obviously – because I’m usually complaining about something they did!  And I’m definitely not going to be that mom that complains to her kids, yells at them, and makes them feel like little pieces of shit, because they definitely don’t deserve that.  They’re amazing.  And they’re actually incredibly well behaved and awesome kids.  I’m so proud of the way they’re turning out.

I just write a lot of negative crap because I can.  I can complain on here.  I can voice my opinion, my thoughts and fears, and announce my irritations to the world.  To anyone besides my kids.  That’s basically what it comes down to.

Now that I’ve said all that…

I’m taking the kids to the movies today to see The Lorax.  I can’t wait.  Know why?  Because they’re so excited they’re driving me f’ing crazy. They’re bouncing off the walls, couches, and everything else they’re not supposed to be doing, because they’re so excited they can’t stand themselves.  Little bastards.  (Just kidding!)  But seriously, everytime I tell them we’re doing something and they get crazy excited, they start becoming maniacs.  I just had to yell at my daughter, who is incredibly well behaved in almost the perfect way, because she was jumping from the coffee table to the couch, and vice versa.  What the f—?  I definitely didn’t raise them to be doing that.  At this time – that’s when I’m grateful for my crazy pills.  Whoever invented them is a freaking genius.  And my new lover.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again.  Sometimes it’s like a three ring f’ing circus around here.  With three kids, who are six, five and six months, and a one-year-old stubborn ass English bulldog, it gets insane.  Like crazy insane.  When one is sick, tired, hyper, in a bad mood…anything ranging from good to bad, everything around here changes dramatically.  Because when one isn’t happy, they piss the other one off on purpose constantly (the big kids).  And when the baby isn’t happy and she’s screaming and crying – no one is happy.  And when the dog gets a wild hair up his ass and becomes that instant asshole that he does randomly – no one is happy – again.

And when the hubster is home and all this craziness is happening, the poor guy goes crazy.  He can’t handle it.  He always says, “and that’s why I go to work.”  And I roll my eyes (in jealously) and wish I had a job at those times.  He’s so lucky he gets away sometimes.  Even though it’s to work.  Poor guy.  Once again – here is my daily chance – Thank you God for putting him in my life and all he does for us.  He busts his ass to support us.  And he doesn’t get thanked enough.  I tell him as much as I can.  But even thanking him everyday doesn’t do him justice I don’t think.  He’s just that amazing.  Jealous?  You should be.

And guess what my freakin’ son just did.  Hopped over the back of the couch onto the floor.  What the f.  No way.  It’s time to go.  Or time to knock them out.  Is that allowed?  Can I just knock them out until it’s movie time?  Now he’s running from one side of the couch to the other.  Time to go…

***UPDATE***

Right after I posted this, my daughter came to me and told me she wanted an MP3 player.  She has an iPod touch.  And she’s 6.  I know, spoiled rotten.  I just got so upset.  Thankfully, my medicine helps me hold back what I actually want to say (you little beotch, you have the best iPod touch there is and you’re 6, don’t be an ungrateful bastard.”  Instead, I say, “You have an MP3 player.  You have the best one they make.  It’s your iPod touch.  They don’t get any better.  Now if you’d like me to get rid of it, I’ll gladly sell it and get money for it and buy you a cheap one.  Is it not good enough for you?  Would you like a little MP3 player you can’t play games on and download games onto?”  And she said, “But I still want an MP3 player.”

Holy hell.