Last night I blew my stack. I just- wigged out. I couldn't hold it in any longer. Yanno, I make dinner, I get on the treadmill for my hourly love fest with exercise....ugh and now it's 8:00 pm. I yell to my 5 year old that it's time for bed, and jump in the shower. Get out of the shower and she's still up, and I tell her again it's time for bed, it's past 8 O'clock, you're late for bed. Go up stairs to get my jammies on and find ALL the crap I picked up earlier and put on the step (of the kids'). They ALL step over their crap to get up the stairs, instead of picking up their crap.
At this point my last nerve has broken and my blood begins the slow simmer leading up to the explosion. You're just lucky enough that I don't feel like typing out the 4 hours prior that lead to the point, like a a horseradish bottle that fell out of the frigde and shattered on the tile, cracking it and send teeny tiny pieces of glass everywhere as I am making homemade meatballs for dinner. The homework hour which always includes at least one screaming child. It's just the daily routine around here, when you have a family of five (or more) chaos and noise is ever-present.
As I am getting dressed, some one needs ME. Why me, when their father is sitting in the lazy chair on the laptop stalking the bank account, I have no idea? But one by one they all knock on the door in true Sheldon fashion "knock knock knock MOM, knock knock knock MOM, knock knock knock MOM, knock knock knock MOM" for various reasons that include but are not limited to, "Jake called me a moron!!", "where's my footie pajamas!!", "Megan HIIITTTTT MEEEEE!!!" and the ever popular "Hey MOM, LOOK AT WHAT I CAN DO!!". All the while Roxy, our dog, who can't talk but whines and whines-needs to go out.
The explosion hits, and I start spewing reasons they need to be in bed instead of up, it's now 8:30. Just so I don't disappoint myself, I verbally regurgitate the day and what they DIDN'T do that I asked them to, how no one put their clothes away and "I don't do laundry for FUN", etc.
When everyone is in bed and I walk downstairs, my loving husband just looks at me and shake's his head like "damn kids",and gets up to take a shower-as if he is just as frustrated as me.
Why oh why, when children or pets need something...anything, they immediately come to me. My children will seek me out to ask me to get them a drink, while their dad is standing in front of the refrigerator. It's a frustrating reality that hasn't changed for 12 years in this house.
I'm good this morning, but dang.
Today is already a better day, tonight will be a better night!