Day three of summer vacation, and I’ve already gone all Mommie Dearest on my kids. In my defense, they all deserved it.

Driving home this afternoon I passed some kids on the other end of our street selling popsicles to benefit the American Cancer Society Relay For Life. So I threw a five-spot their way and took home giant freeze pops for the kids. I should be hailed as an all-conquering hero, right?

Flash forward to ten minutes later when I’m scrubbing orange popsicle juice off my living room carpet screaming “I SAID NO POPSICLES IN THE LIVING ROOM!” at Justin, who is in histrionics because he wants another popsicle because he dropped his on the floor after I told all of them 20 times to eat the popsicles outside or in the kitchen. Alex is throwing things at me because I took his away after he wouldn’t go to the kitchen. David is coming into the living room with his popsicle to yell at Alex and Justin because they won’t stop crying, and I’m chasing after him because he won’t shut his yap or get in the kitchen, and Cameron, for some inexplicable reason is standing on a dining room chair.

Okay, so maybe my performance wasn’t quite Joan Crawford level psycho, but even so, I seriously need to go back to work.

© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2012



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