Monday Morning SAHM blues....

*The following post does involve language that may not be suitable for all readers*

*I do soooo love my children and my life, this is a rant, simple as that.....*

It is not enough that my flat size 5 tummy 123 pound body has been sacrificed at the alter of Motherhood. Leaving me with this marsupial like bag of flesh that I work like mad to rid myself of. There are also those wonderful breasts that used to be closer to my shoulders than my current pouch. 15 months of breastfeeding per child. Oh and the "leaking" that happens to every newly nursing Mom, which makes you want to crawl in a hole. The strechmarks, the 12 hours of hard labor, due to Sir Rowland being "sunny side up", which is a horrid way to labor. Oh, and there is pride, that I no longer have. I now show up at places looking spooky, on a good day I might have "half" of a hair do, at least foundation on, maybe some bronzer to make me look as if I am a lady of leisure. Oh and I am sure when I delivered my placenta I lost a few brain cells...That are now gone forever.

Some of you may be saying this today...

"she should be thankful."

I am, but damn'it

"What is your fucking problem AWTM...?"

Well, it is rainy out AGAIN, so I decided I would take the kids to McPetrieDishOFilthLand for ice cream, and play time. However here was the rule.

Sir Rowland's room had to be picked up. That was it.

So I am having morning coffee, and on the phone. They are supposed to be cleaning up.

I walk in to check on progress.

I find a room with white powder all over the floor, and the bed, and the toys. Powder? Oh and a little bit of water drizzled in. (Remember my clothes washer is out of order, I am on day 9 of waiting for a part)

"Huh, powder?"

Oh folks, not just any powder. Plaster of paris powder.

"Where in the hell did they get plaster of paris powder, AWTM you know better?"

Yes folks, I do know better, and the plaster of Paris in mention was actually in a handprint kit, on a top shelf, however I am still stunned, that The Collective" knew enough to add water to make an EVEN bigger mess for me to clean.

Anyway, so I walk in only to find them covered in white powder, white powder EVERYWHERE. It looks like studio 54.

So I seriously was shocked.

And someone should have came to my rescue, with a Haldol injection.

So we "discuss matters" and then I hear this...

"So if we clean up, we can go to McDonalds right?"

I wanted to say this...
"You have got to be fucking kidding me, after the tirade that just flew into this room, you kids have the biggest balls I have EVER seen."


Instead I explain to them, that THEY are GROUNDED. I tell them, no nothing, no TV, no MOVIES, NO leapsters, no NOTHING, they do not go to the park, do not pass go, and do not collect $100. "

"The Collective" are grounded. Which essentially means I am grounded to.

They need to know that Mom is as serious as a heart attack. I do not play.

So I am currently supervising Sir Rowland as HE vacuums his room.

I should have taken pictures, it was a big mess.

I should have also recorded me blowing a gasket.

I think I may have had a stroke.