Send help. Please send help. My children have turned into little a-holes. Seriously? I love them, but people you love can be jerks sometimes. And I know I use the twin card sometime but this is definitely one of those occasions where it's completely ok for me to wave it out like a white flag of pitiful mommy surrender.
Oh, what have they been doing to have turned me into a sad, depressed and discarded little goldfish hiding in fear under our couch? They've been doing EVERYTHING. That's what.
Julian, don't throw your cars. He then proceeds to empty his entire toy box of cars by hurling them across the baby gate into the kitchen one at a time. Every. Single. One. (they literally have close to 50 cars) Laughing and squealing and rubbing it in my face. And it looks like so much fun, his brother decides to help with everything else he can find within a 6 mile radius. All the while, mommy is in full on re-direction, scold, re-direction, scold, move, do-anything-to-get-them-to-stop-mode.
At one point I even flicked Julian's hand. Yes, I flicked it. Call child services. And he looked up at me with big confused eyes and gave me the whole quivering pouty lip thing and then I shriveled up into a ball and died.
Oh, and yesterday Isaiah threw a car and it hit me in the head and I really did cry. And he was laughing.
Then there's the breaking through the baby locks to get into the bathroom and throw my make up/everything within reach all over the floor. Or breaking through the other baby lock on the hall closet repeatedly to get all the cords and chargers and remotes everywhere. Or when I'm savoring one whole minute of alone time in the bathroom (for the love of Jesus, Mary and Joseph can I seriously pee alone???) and I hear nothing in the living room, only to come out to both boys up on the computer desk pounding the shit out of the keyboard and our iMac about to have a mental break down. (I feel you iMac. I feel you.)
Or the pounding of the sippy cups upside down on hard surfaces to get liquid everywhere and then the splashing around of hands in the liquid. And the stealing of and fighting over one car when they have about 3823 other ones.
What in the name of Ryan Gosling did I do to deserve this torture?
Is it acceptable to keep children in steel reinforced cages? You know, like tigers and other exotic pets those crazy people keep in their back yards. No?
Whatever. I had Chikezie put them to bed 15 minutes early and I left to get some fro yo. Fro yo always makes life better. I even made a quick side trip to Tj Max (where I can never find anything decent) and bought a new shirt for the blogger meet up on the 4th.
And it made me feel better.