Just call my kids Edward Cullen

Unless you are one of those "i'm so perfect I can do no wrong and my children are beautiful angels whose fecal matter smells of roses and the only sounds that come out of their mouths are those of waves crashing on a beach and an old Enya CD"- which means I not only want to spork you but laugh in your deluded face- then you have had one of those days where you swear to all that is holy, your child/ren are purposely and effectively attempting to make you lose what little is left of your poor tired mind.

Absolutely every single thing they do is downright devious and evil. Their whines have reached a decibel level that you KNOW logically should be able to shatter glass. The fighting, the bitching, the backsass, all confined into one space becomes so overwhelming that you know the only thing left to do is get the FUCK out of the house. It's fight or flight, and you're quite positive that attempting to fight to quiet things to a dull roar would only succeed in opening up a black hole that would suck the entire world into oblivion.
That might be a nice thought at times... but eventually that teensy tiny bit of sanity clears its throat in the back of your head and says "no, idiot, don't do that."


Ok, so now with your head firmly back on your neck (for the next 5 minutes anyways)- the conclusion you have come to is that you absolutely need a mental break. Kids are assholes, so if it isn't nap time (and sometimes even if it is) you can't force them into submission, so that's out of the question. Taking them out alone?

There's always a bounce house, or a fast food play yard. Yes- let's let them play in other kids shit germs for a couple of hours, that's not at all disgusting nor harmful. Oh, not to mention having to watch your kids plus watch OTHER peoples kids because you know other parents who are sick of their spawn just let those little shits run fucking wild.
Or maybe we could go grocery shopping- there's always something that needs to be picked up at the store. Then again, they either always want to walk or bitch about being in the cart or insist on having dumb shit they'd never eat in real life, or run around the fucking corner in a cheap attempt to get kidnapped.
Well, all of that sounds akin to opening up a direct portal to hell.
Hey Satan, how the fuck are ya?


The only real option left is to just let the monsters out of their cage and play in the damn yard. No driving, no other people or bratty hellions to worry about, and no poo-germs other than the ones that might have come out of the bird that has its ass plopped on the branch directly above your head... or unless your child is prone to crapping his or her pants. Either one of those is possible.
Now, this escape only works if you either don't mind terrible fucking weather, or it's a perfect day out. I absolutely hate weather and refuse to torture myself the kids by forcing them out into miserable conditions- so the only way this last ditch option will happen for us is if it's not frigid as fuck, raining, so windy that the little shits will inevitably throw sand in my eyes, or so hot that my nonexistent tits will sweat.

Happy fucking day- for us- that perfect weather day was today, and by 10:30am the kids were driving me so fucking nuts that I was basically pushing them out the door to prevent going in my spork drawer (really, it's the coupon drawer, but don't think for a second I don't have three sporks in there in case of emergencies).

We get outside, it's warm and sunny, a nice breeze- and the asshole neighborhood kids are all in school so it's pretty damn quiet. I sit my ass down, put on my sunglasses, and prepare for relaxation while the kids completely tire themselves out, essentially making the job of threatening to pull out their toenails one by one if they don't take a nap, a lot less of a battle.
I AM WINNING!

Yeah, that ignorant bliss lasted for all of about 3 minutes- and then the bubble solution spilled. For the third time. And you'd have thought the fucking WORLD was coming to an end right.that.very.second.

From that point on it was an ugly downward spiral of toy yanking back and forth, screaming, fits over a stupid fucking bubble wand that refused to make bubbles, and another container that didn't even COME with a fucking wand (seriously?!) causing more mass hysteria, coupled with my paranoia of Parker ONCE AGAIN falling and smashing his face into the pavement for the second time in a month- pavement he refused to stop playing on. Someone threw sand in someone else's eyes, then on the dog, then back in the eyes again.

WHY?! WHY MUST THEY POOP ON EVERYTHING? What could have been a peaceful hour outdoors turned into face-melting mayhem. NEVER AGAIN!
I don't care if i'm tearing my fucking hair out piece by piece and then eating it- NEVER AGAIN!

I will now run along to the store and invest in the best noise canceling ear plugs a girl can find. In pink, of course- and then lock the brats in the house with me. Forever.
By the time they're teenagers, they'll end up looking like Edward Cullen from lack of sunlight... but I hear chicks dig that shit anyway.