Today I got so angry I envisioned ripping the four year old's leg off as he ran away from me.
That might sound totally over the top and pretty crazy but I tell you, the Mum rage is real. I know it is because I feel it everyday. And I'm honest.
People don't talk about it because 'my kids are my life, I love them so much...' blah blah blah. Yes, you love your kids, we all love our kids, but fuck. Sometimes you just want to kill them.
Molly won't sleep at the moment, she's teething, constantly trying to stand up and face planting and obviously turning 13 soon because she's heaps of fun to be around. The non-stop crying and screaming for my attention is in no way annoying at all. She also wants my boob in her mouth at all times and actually pulls off to yell at me if I try and do other things like go to the toilet, drink water, prepare food. I know! How dare I? I'm such a bitch cow.
The Mushroom will not leave his fucking sister alone. Pushing her over, carrying her around, snatching things out of her hands and generally being a total shit. When he's not tormenting her, he's tormenting me by ordering me around, screaming in my face that he's lost a Lego bit, or demanding food and/or attention. But not that food, that's YUCK MUMMY!
We went to Kmart this morning as Molly decided 20 mins sleep was enough and Mushroom was literally climbing the walls. We were there 3 minutes before we had a screaming match in front of the Lego, accompanied by a crying baby, and then another screaming match as the four year old used his body weight and lay down whilst holding onto the pram in protest of leaving said toy section. Lucky shoppers got to view another tantrum mere moments after the first!
Of course we managed to find the photo frames, the real reason for our visit, and Master Mushroom admits, of course, that he desperately needs to go the toilet. I can't deny that I looked around for a pot plant but we made it to the register and the toilet on time. If we'd left without the goods, there was no way I was coming back.
It took longer to get ready and drive there than the time we were actually inside.
I don't know why I try to get out of the house. I clearly need to stop thinking that they'll behave if I go out.
Just when you are contemplating hiding in the wardrobe to scull a bottle of vodka, you walk into the lounge and there is this...
That's a dirty tea towel.
And, yes, he is naked underneath it.
Give me strength.
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