friday freak out. fabulous FAIL.

my kids are screaming. i can't think."if you pinch me one more time abby, i'm going to tell mommy!" then laughter. "it's NOT FUNNY!" crayola markers being thrown on the floor. rolling around, under furniture. i sigh loudly. i'm staying silent, trying to ignore.

my hair is dirty. i'm tired. i can't think.

the dishwasher needs to be emptied. the laundry needs to be folded. "mommy, will you help me with this?" no, i cannot. no, i will not. all i want is five minutes where no one's screaming at me, no one's hitting, no one's pinching or tattling or whining or crying or stomping across the floor in a fit of red anger. five minutes. in five minutes i could take a quick shower. in five minutes i could regain my composure. in five minutes i could have a glass of wine to steady myself. in five minutes i could crap in peace, i could walk the dog, i could unload the dishwasher. in five minutes i could call a friend. in five minutes i could pluck my eyebrows into submission or maybe shave my legs for a change. just five minutes of utter and complete silence. and of possibly doing nothing at all, just wallowing in the sheer glory of it.

my hair is dirty. i'm tired. i can't think.

suddenly in the midst of mayhem and madness, "mommy, i love you." what, is it a ploy to get me to forget all the drama that's rolling right on through here like a mack truck? it's crushing me and soffocating me and i feel like i will be a prisoner forever.

my hair is dirty. i'm tired. i can't think.

"DON'T DARE SAY THAT!" abby yells. izzy shrivels up and starts fake crying. can't handle it. "mommy, abby was being naughty." abby says, "Don't DARE say that i was being naughty, i was just COLORING."

the words are echoing and magnifying and ricocheting and most likely seeping out from underneath the doors. the neighbors surely hear and pause while they are walking by. izzy says, "mommy, abby needs a time out." there is dried peanut butter around her mouth and a small hole in her sock.

my hair is dirty. i'm tired. i can't think.

"mommy?" "what?" "do you have any picture books for me to put my pictures of belle i colored in?" " we'll put them in your art box later," i say. "NOT later, NOW, PLEASE! she shouts. she wipes her runny nose with her sleeve, leaving a trail of snot across one cheek. "not right now." "WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?" she won't stop the word. broken record. word word word. why why why. i am drifting off, away, putting distance between my Self and this thing that is my life now and this little girl in front of me. "mommy, you're gonna be in big trouble of yelling," she says. "oh really?" i say. "mommy, i'm sorry for yelling at you." "abby, i'm sorry for yelling at you, too." "that's okay mommy, but just don't do it again."

i am out of stamps. we are out of dog food. i need to write a million thank-you notes from the girls' birthday party last weekend. and if someone says "mommy" (followed by a need that is imaginary or needless) one more time i am going to kill myself.

i am going to fill up the tub with water so hot i can barely stand it. and i will lower myself in and drink some diet coke and maybe smoke a cigarette (not really but i can pretend). and somehow the screaming senselessness of it all will float away like dreams on the edge of waking. i am powerless. i am a mother. i don't know what i am. i am. i am. i am. maybe if i keep saying it it will mean something.

a neighbor just came over with holiday goodies for us. such a nice man. i wanted to cry and say, "you have no idea what you just walked into." i'm wearing dirty sweatpants. he's talking to me about normal things and the whole time in my head i'm wondering what must he be thinking of me and what i look like and all the markers thrown everywhere and my dirty hair?

my hair is dirty. i'm tired. i can't think.

i'm talking to him and abby has helped herself to some cookies. crumbs dribbling off onto the floor. the dog is licking them up. the floor is sticky. she has crumbs in her hair. the counter is littered with crumbs. crumbs crumbs crumbs, you say a word over and over so many times that it stops having meaning. like me. i've stopped meaning anything. am i? am i? am i?

my hair is dirty. i'm tired. i can't think.