Waving the White Flag

I surrender already.

I give up.

You can have my sanity.  I never had much to begin with, so I probably won't miss it much.

They say insanity is hereditary...you get it from your kids.

Apparently, you do not need shared mitochondrial DNA to contract this terrible disease from your children.

Will someone please find me a nice room with a comfy bed and rubber walls painted a nice soothing shade?

And take my hormones with you, while you're at it.  I don't want them anymore.  They are incorrigible and cannot be trusted.

If I had a whole nerve left this morning, I'd be surprised.

I do not have any now.

They've frazzled themselves out of existence.

By the time I got the Fries down to nap, it was very late.  Did they sleep?  Noooo.  I should have tried to nap myself, but I didn't.  I wouldn't have had much success anyway, since Large Fry came downstairs after half an hour and asked to get up.  (Egad, no!)  Medium Fry asked the same question 40 minutes later.  (Again, no.  Seriously, they had all had meltdowns of one kind or another before nap.)  And fifteen minutes after that, I had to herd both twins back to bed.  Medium had gone potty after asking if she could come downstairs, which was fine, but the fact that she clearly had not then gone back to bed like she'd been told and Small Fry was up now too.  Argh!

Ice cream did not improve my disposition.

In the five minutes it took to drive to the church tonight for the youth group's spaghetti dinner fundraiser, I was teetering off the edge again.  Large and Small running happily amok in the parking lot didn't help, especially when neither of them stopped when I shouted at them to cool it.

I was on the verge of tears by the time we got down to the fellowship hall.  Hubby was talking with the college students, and given my text to Jester and my wordless communication that I was about to lose my mind, I should not have been surprised that Mitzy and her roomie came right over, gave me a hug, and took the kids so I could go breathe for a minute.

I didn't breathe; I collapsed in the corner hallway of the children's ministries wing and bawled.  Hubby left the kids with Jester, Mitzy and gang and just let me cry.

Days like this are thankfully rare.

I should have had a second piece of cake.

If I didn't know that the teens and youth group staff were boxing up leftovers to take over to the firefighters at the nearby station, I would have.

I think I shall prescribe a fistful of mini Reese's PB cups.