It’s only 12:25 p.m. and I’m already done for the day.
That’s it, I’ve had enough. I’m punching the imaginary time clock and getting the heck out of here because if I don’t, I’m going to lose it. The “it” being my mind, my sanity, my cool, my sh” “…all of “it”!
“MOOOOOOM!! I can’t find the iPad!”
“MOOOOOM!! I need some juice right now!”
“MOOOOOM!!” I’m starving even though we JUST ate breakfast 2 hours ago.
“Ugh, Mom. You’re soooo annoying. I don’t want to clean my room!”
“Why do I have to help carry in the groceries? He never has to help do anything!”
“You’re sooooo mean to me! This isn’t fair!”
I’m DONE!
I don’t want to hear the word “mom” again for the rest of the day.
I don’t want to fix meals.
I don’t want to do dishes.
I don’t want to wipe butts and noses.
