Somedays I am a rockstar.  I feel like I should have a fan club of adoring people who love ME.

Today was NOT one of those days.

Somedays I feel like I should share my genetics with the world.  Because they are just THAT good.  You know, when your kids are rockstars and everyone wants their kids to be just like yours…

Today was also NOT one of those days.

Today was the kind of day where I wish I could feign illness at work half way through the day.  I would have faked a fever for today.  Or made myself vomit all over the floor, just for quarantine alone time in my room.  But nobody was here but me.  Me and the screamers.  No point in naming them.  Hushing and loving and hugging didn’t change them.  Yelling and time outs didn’t fix them.  They just wanted to be next to me.  And scream.  For hours.  Not consecutively though.  It was intermittent screaming for hours today.  Between the diaper rash and the meltdowns due to lack of sleep, lack of timely food, lack of nap, and lack of motherly patience after hour 4, I wanted to escape.

The diaper rash, despite changing immediately after the “grunting face” worsened through the day.  Up to the point that thing 1 was in her room screaming (time out for screaming).  At that point thing 2 was mid diaper change when the legs started flailing and the poop started flying.  Okay not so much flying as: all over mom and the diaper, and the clean up cloth trying to contain said mess.  And more screaming.  So into the tub.  Followed by thing one emerging from the bedroom. And more screaming.

And dinner.  The wrong type apparently. More screaming.

And Mom eating dinner, without Dad.  More screaming.

And baby playing with dinosaurs. More screaming.

More screaming.

More screaming.

More screaming.

The windows in my house were closed today.  Despite HOT temperatures.  Sweltering heat which I’m sure resulted in…you guessed it. More screaming.

At least the neighbours only got a muffled version of what sounded like me murdering my small children.  Slowly.  With dull spoons.

That is all.  There is no happy ending to this story.  Unless you count bedtime.  Shortly after hubby got home at 7:45pm.

Some days suck.  Even for rockstars.  And I am a rockstar.  Minus the drug and alcohol problems.

Tomorrow will be a rockstar day. (Minus the drug and alcohol problems.)


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