- There's sugar on the kitchen floor.
- There's spilled juice in the fridge.
- The girls somehow smashed their lightbulb in their room, so there's shards of that on the floor at the end of their beds.
- The baby has toys strewn all around his room, and piles of clothes that I'd had packed up because he grew out of them.
- The diapers are still dirty.
- The dishes aren't done.
They cleaned up their room, but only because I was standing there with a wooden spoon, barking orders like some demented drill sergeant. When that was finally done, THEN they smashed their lightbulb. I don't know how that happened.
It took them an hour to clean up their "art". There was a LOT of little bits of paper, a LOT of random marker lids, and a LOT of globby glue. I have yet to find any actual, completed art.
THEY WHINED. FROM SUN UP, TO 2300hrs. I seperated them. I made them work as a team. I pitted them against eachother. I tried to bribe them. I tried to pay them. I yelled. I screamed. I threatened spankings. I had a complete meltdown, and smashed a plate they were supposed to be cleaning, because they WOULD. NOT. STOP. with the she-did-she-said-but-her-fault-no-I-didn't-HER-fault-OH-MY-GOD-SHUT-UP. So I lost it. I smashed the plate I was holding as hard as I could and it SHATTERED. It was corelle ware, too. They shatter REALLY well. It shattered EVERYWHERE.
Then I looked at them, and said through clenched teeth, "Are. You. Finished?"
Two little bug-eyed bobble-heads nodded.
Mommy: "Good. Because the next thing I smash like that is going to be YOU."
They restored order to their disaster areas.
They went straight to bed.
Mama needs wine.