Saturday, my kids made me cry. This happens every once in awhile. Sometimes it is because they do something touching and sweet, but usually I am brought to tears by something that they have done -- they break something, destroy something, say something that hurts, etc. Saturdays tears were brought on by complete and total desperation.
I went upstairs, where the 2 oldest sleep and there is a loft area that acts as the kids' playroom. Now, you've all seen the pictures in my post entitled "This is Why I Don't Have Nice Things," and you know that this area of the house is one that I avoid because it gives me an anxiety attack. But it had gotten to "that" point -- you know, the one where you say to yourself that it HAS to be cleaned regardless of what it takes to get it done? I walked upstairs and was immediately pissed off. I started by throwing away trash -- and things I was just tired of picking up. I filled 8 bags of trash and miscellaneous crap that they hadn't picked up or taken care of. Zhu-zhu Pets -- trash. Pet Shops -- trash. You get the idea. I knew that I was throwing away things that I probably could have sold or given to Goodwill, but I didn't care. Every time I box stuff up to take to Goodwill, they get half of it out of the garage before I get it there. There were crayons, markers, paints, and make-up all over the floor. By the time I got done, my fingernails had crap underneath them that was every color of the rainbow. I was yelling. A lot. "What IS this???!" "WHY would you do this?!!" and "What is WRONG with you??!" were common phrases. It was so overwhelming. And they just stood there. Staring in disbelief as I threw stuff away. Every once in awhile, I'd throw something across the room and say "Put that away if you don't want me to throw it out." It brought me to tears. I was angry at them and I was angry at myself for yelling at them. Nothing makes you feel like more of a failure as a parent than going nuts on your kids.....unless its finding out that they have been spilling crap on the carpet upstairs for what looks like months and not telling anyone. So, I'm upstairs, sweating, cleaning, throwing stuff away, etc. and yelling and getting angrier and more frustrated and then.....then I snapped. I sat down on the floor with my trash bag in hand and cried. My kids had no idea what was going on. They just stood there, staring at me wide eyed. So I finished what I could and then went downstairs to hide in my room.
A little later, all hell was breaking loose. Bella and William were fighting, Lorelei was screaming, and Jackson was running around completely naked from the waist down and screaming "AHHHHH! I NEED YOU TO WIPE MY BUTT!!!" So I caught him and wiped his butt but there was nothing there. He then continues screaming "I need to go potty! I need to go potty!" So I plop his naked butt on the potty and go tell William and Bella to knock it off, and go to investigate why Lorelei is trying to shatter all the glass in the house using only her voice. Next thing I know, Jackson comes streaking by, still naked from the waist down, still half running, half dancing, and still screaming "I need to go potty! I need to go potty!!" So I grab him by the upper arms and pick him up where he is face to face with me and I say "What is the matter with you? If you need to go potty then GO!" So, he does. He pees on me and drops 2 big turds right there on the floor. I FREAK OUT. I wipe his butt, put a Pull-Up on him, clean the floor, change clothes, and go and call my husband at work and proceed to have a mental breakdown with him on the phone. I'm thinking, "This is it. The men with white coats will be here in the morning."
Instead, my husband did the most romantic thing he has ever done in the nearly 14 years that I have known him. He got me a hotel room for Sunday night. I went and got a manicure and pedicure, went out to eat, and then went to the hotel where I took a shower without anyone coming into the bathroom and opening the shower door to give me their empty juice cup demanding more, no one asked me to wipe their butt, no one screamed and argued, and most importantly, no one peed on me. I came back well-rested, and I now think I can make it at least a month or so before I have another psychotic break. Maybe.
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