I am kinda, sorta, maybe, definitely, absolutely done with this day.  I am all over the whining.  Completely unimpressed with the in – fighting.  And considering therapy from helping you put the same doll in the same stroller all day long.

I no longer appreciate your need to jump on my aching back while I am trying to change the baby’s diaper.  Do not see the cuteness in the consistent need for my undivided attention.  And think that the whole, “Mommy, I need…” act is so yesterday.

Though I think your smile is adorable, I find it annoying when used for evil.  Or to taunt me into thinking you are going to be sweet, but then poke me in the eye because you think it is hysterical.  And could you please do something about your breath?

Screaming is no longer the call to attention mechanism that it used to be.  Now I just want to see how long you can throw that tantrum so that I have blog material.  It no longer gives me the splitting headache that makes me want to gauge my eyes out with a toothpick.  Mostly because my head exploded at about 7:38am.

Your constant desire to be in my face, up my butt, pulling on my shirt, watching me pee, wanting to be held while I am cooking, and basically high maintenance to a fault, has sent me into an “I don’t care” coma.  I believe that without medical attention from Dr. Bud Light and Nurse Merlot, I may never wake again to be your constant, unrelenting, servant.

So, in the quest to save my liver, my sanity, and my ability to be a somewhat alert Mother, I am bowing down and giving you permission.  You may do as you like.

Go ahead and trash the house.  Beat each other up.  Run around naked.  Pee on the floor.  Eat sweets all day and all night and refuse sleep.  Enjoy your day in the sun to break all of your toys, throw your food on the floor, and pull your sister’s hair.  Your shining moment to kick and scream until you get your way, rot your brain with too much TV, and break every crayon you have.

You have my permission.

Now.  Where is the hammer to the glass box that holds the King Sized emergency Snickers bar?