Losing it.

Not sure if anyone cares, or if anyone can relate, but I am seriously, seriously, losing my freaking mind.

I don't know what happened between last week and today, but I'm leaning towards the possibility that my kids also got a lobotomy while we were in the hospital for their strep throat. I can't prove it, but that's the only logical option.

Since they started feeling better they have been nothing but ungrateful devil children put here on earth to see to it that I eat chocolate and shoot myself. In that order, of course. What would be the point of shooting yourself and then eating chocolate? That's just stupid.

To describe their behavior would take much more effort than I am willing to put into it this morning, but let's just say I am being pulled in twelve different directions by two tiny little humans who consistently piss each other off in ways that no one understands. Screaming and crying and hitting and whining. All, not on my list of fun times.

"I want food!" "I want juice!" "Spongebob!!!" "I want my computer!" I want more food!" "Apples!" "Crackers!" "Juice!!!!" "Jacob, stop hitting me!" "Jossa (jacob's word for joshua) AHHHEHHHEHEHEH!!!!" "

And now that summer is here, screaming at them is a bit more challenging. I'll say something like "What is your problem!? Why are you being such a pain?" only to look out the window and see my neighbor standing outside...through the open, screen window. Hmmm, can't even imagine what's going on in her mind. Perhaps, "Who to call? who to call? Child protective services or 911?" So, now I have to be more aware of the window situation, and before I let out a blood curdling screech, I quickly glance up at the windows. That determines my noise level.At least in the winter there's a slight barrier of glass to muffle the screeches.

Not that my kids even hear me. I say the same thing ten times in a row. "Joshua, don't swing that around in the house, you'll hit the dog or your brother." While Joshua is still swinging said object, "Joshua....I just said not to swing that." Swinging..."Joshua!!! What did I just say?!" Still swinging damn thing...."Joshua, I'm going to count to 5 (swinging) if you don't stop swinging that thing (swinging) by the time I get to 5, I'm going to (swinging) send you upstairs for the rest of your life." 1....2......Swinging, swinging, swinging, now I've lost it. I don't even get to 5. "Give me that thing right now," I say in my deepest, most evil voice and yank it out of his hands. Then let the waterworks begin. Hurray! More. Freaking. Crying.

My house looks like a bad Roseanne episode (wow that shows how out of date my TV references are), with dishes sprawled about, usually with the dog licking one clean, and toys that I didn't even know we had have some how found their way onto every square inch of my floor. The sofa cushions have become the best toys in the world, but only if they are stacked on top of each other to jump onto, or leap from. And then of course, all the sofa pillows, from both sofas, need to be placed strategically throughout the house, because if you don't walk on them, your feet will catch on fire.

I send them outside so I can clean up inside, and they inevitably end up whacking each other with a golf club or baseball bat, or a stick. One or the other comes crying inside to me within minutes of being outside. Why is this happening?!

I'm an only child, so having a brother/sister relationship is over my head. Maybe this is normal, but dear god. I should have been given more patience with each kid, not less.

The only solace I take in all of this is that my annoying neighbors who, on the north side of us have barking dogs and screaming kids, and on the south side of us smoke so much that I'm developing second hand lung cancer through my own house, are getting paid back with my crazy, out of control children.

When you find me dead in my house after shooting myself...rest assured, there will be chocolate smudges all over my face....