It just doesn't stop.
TheBoy was in fine form this morning. He's in this, "Mama do it," stage where he wants help from no one but me. That kind of sucks when I need to get stuff done. I asked the girls to help him and he threw a fit. When I tried to get him dressed, he hit me. Oh hell no! Completely unacceptable. He went into timeout and never stopped screaming.
After the gym, I was feeling much better. The kids, however, took a break from the bitchiness just long enough to stay at the nursery there, but then kicked back into brat-mode when I picked them up.
Long story, but we got back here only to find we needed to leave again. I was planning on staying in the rest of the day just catching up with the kids and giving the youngest of the brood a nap he obviously so desperately needs. Now I find we'll need to leave in order for everything to get done.
So I make plans with a friend, but when I tell the big kids where we're going, it's met with whining and complaining. "I doooooooooon't waaaaaaaaaaaaant to go there. Why can't we go to the poooooooooool?" Holy shit! Who are these kids because they're sure as hell not behaving like mine. My mantra is, "We don't get what we want when we whine." I'm pretty strict about that. So WTF is going on?
So I have to call to cancel which initiates this hugely dramatic scream-fest from Girl1. Dude, it's your fucking fault.
Let's not forget that our presence here means that things can't get done. That was the whole reason I even considered getting the hell out of dodge in the first place.
And the "fun" continues.
TheBoy scraches Girl2 in the face with sunglasses which initiates launch sequence for sobs.
Now the girls are trying to play with a game and TheBoy is objecting (loudly).
Holy shit! I need a fucking break and a drink. Send alcohol--copious amounts of alcohol, QUICKLY. Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaaase. Pretty pretty pleeeeeaaaaaaase.