A SMASHINGLY bad day

Today was a bad day. I woke up with a massive headache, and it all went downhill from there. The girls got up and got into their art supplies. My new(old) wooden dining room table now has permanent-marker "art" all up one side. That'll need refinishing. My tablecloth was glued to the table. No, I'm not kidding. The baby decided he wanted in on this "art" and chose my least-favorite medium - poo. Apparently I'd missed a turd when I was emptying his diapers before washing them. If there is a bright side, it's that he's short and we have wood floors. I found the remainder of the rogue turd with my foot. Score.

• 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.

Silence.

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 cleaned.

They swept.

They restored order to their disaster areas.

They went straight to bed.

Mama needs wine.