Oh, the Horrors.

By which I mean my children.

Yesterday, they yelled at me because I did not have a “treat” waiting for them in the car.


(They don’t seem to remember our discussion that I was ending this. They get a snack when they get home, and I’m tired of complaints if they get the “wrong” bag of gummy snacks.)


When we arrived home, Boo yelled at me because Macy peed on his foot. (She did not. His shoe was dry. Weeing around his feet does not count, and she does this every time she sees him.)

Then, Pea melted down, because Macy would not kiss her.
NO wonder, as she was being yelled at (because she wouldn’t kiss Pea) who currently had a death grip on the poor pup’s neck.

Tough love.

Boo started sobbing because I told him I’d get him a snack in just a minute. He screamed “I need something right NOW”.

Apparently, he was wasting away, and I didn’t see it. He didn’t care for my placid response that screaming would not get him anywhere, but being polite would. He screamed “I’m NOT SCREAMING.”

My bad.

Pea asked for help being changed – which she does just fine on her own for both swimming and P.E. at school. I took off her jumper “all wong” and then the leggings were too tight and I must have shrunk them and the sleeves of her dress were too long and I didn’t wash it properly….at this point, I looked at her point-blank, told her that the tirade was unacceptable, and she’d have to do it on her own.

After eventually being asked properly, Boo got a snack. Pea came downstairs to join him for one. Back turned for 23 seconds, one child pushed the other, the other called the first “Stupid”.

Forbidden word, and they both go to time out to stare at each other.

And whine.

(At this point, my ears began to bleed, and the start of a migraine throbbed behind my left eye.)

I took the puppy back outside, saying I had to scoop poo (which would have been a more pleasant alternative anyway) but in actuality, just to escape the griping.

The puppy and I cowered together on the far side of the trampoline, where we couldn’t be seen from the house. Strains of whining were floating from the house.

I developed a tic in my right eye.

Macy weed on MY foot. I can’t say that I blamed her. She can’t go have a beer, after all.

And to think, I had been looking forward to seeing them.

So I’m curious – what’s YOUR coping technique when all hell breaks loose with tired kids?

And don’t tell me I’ll miss this when they grow up….


  1. I hide in the bathroom and read…but I’m always found. Mine isn’t so much the whining as the constant parade of 3 little ducks around me. After running into the oldest the other day about 10 times I finally turned and said, “What? Do I have a magnet in my ass?! Because every time I turn around I run in to you.” And yes, I used the wor a-s-s. Sue me.

    • Hey, when I was in Chicago, I’d sit in the minivan, in the garage, with a book. The back door had a safety knob – they knew where I was but couldn’t get to me. No such luck here – no garage, and they can work doorknobs now.
      Oh, and I have used that word. Join the bad mommy club.

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