Tuesday, August 9, 2016


Envision me

feverishly typing this out

while headphones are blaring noise into my ears

that is far preferable to the sound of my children

incessantly fighting over the "right way" to create balloon ninja balls filled with flour and water...

a Pinterest project gone semi-wrong.


It really started out as such a beautiful Tuesday.  I awoke to my alarm with no need for snoozing.  Grabbed my running shoes.  Clocked a strong run.  Came home to even stronger coffee and hope for the day.

And then, boom, the fates descended.

My husband broke the news that we needed to put a new starter in our beloved Honda.  Okay, that's fair.  It's been good to us for many, many years.

While making my way to the shower, my five-year old decided to slam the door on her sister and broke off the door knob saying, "How did that happen?"

And then, a quick trip to Target for a few minor things that turned into two bags worth...one bag of which I apparently left with the cashier that had the two things I really needed.  Fuck me.

No energy to go back, I warned all three of my children to (in no uncertain terms), please knock it the fuck off, only to discover that one of them threw a "flour ninja ball" at the other, exploding pasty shit in my living room while smooshing a macaroni noodle into my couch, as the third screamed, "Don't hit me!!!!" and the middle one said, "It wasn't super hard.  Stop being annoying and a little tattle tale."

I am hiding in the corner for the remainder of the day.

Not because I question whether I can handle it....but because sometimes, moms need really long, enduring time-outs too.

The truth is that we're tired of doing the right thing.  We're exhausted by saying the same things over and over again only to be pre-meditatingly ignored by the very beings we sacrifice our all for and well, we just don't have it in us anymore...and yes, we're well aware that it's only Tuesday.

And so, my music blares while I bake brownies that I will eat with a fork by myself in the kitchen and not share (until someone discovers them and eventually, I feel guilty enough) and I will hug them and they will hug me and we will forget that this shit was an issue.

We just need a reboot.

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