Sometimes I look at these 5 kids and I'm so goddamn grateful I can't stand it.
(see, don't we look sweet and blissful?)
This is not one of those days. This is one of those days that I pretty sure I raising serial killers. Today and yesterday, for that matter, I can't figure out what in fucking Hell I'm doing wrong that they scream and whine at me instead of talking. Why they beat their siblings over the head with train tracks. And they don't care.
WHY no matter if I plead or bribe or speak sweetly, they only way to get them to help out is to get mad. (okay, thats not always true, but IT FEELS THAT WAY TODAY).
I try to be a good mother, I do. And there is simply no way I can't feel responsible. I'm the one who teaches them right and wrong. I am the one who is suppose to help them learn to be kind, thoughtful members of society, instead of entitled little brats. But today (and yesterday) al I can see is how I'm failing at it.
Seriously, they are devils. They are mean and heartless and LOUD . So LOUD I can't stand it. They make mess after mess after mess. They whine whine whine.
I do love them I am grateful for my life. But today, I'm just fed the fuck up.
Ps. I came back to this after discovering Alice and Fra had painted themselves and the sink and the floor with nailpolish, Fra had smashed all the blown eggs that Asher and Emmet had dyed and someone had crunched handfuls of crackers into my cup of water.
Right Now I really want to beat those little monsters butts. I think if I have one redeeming quality as a parent it is that I have left room instead of of beating them. In case you are wondering. I spend a lot of fucking time just cleaning up. Picking up. I'm worn out . I'm sad because I don't know what to do. I'm overwhelmed. I wish I could end this in some sort of eloquent way but I can't . All I can see is the abject failure of me as a parent.