Much like the "soup Nazi" in a Seinfeld episode, I have turned into the "snack nazi".
Is it too much to ask for 20 minutes of cooperation from these three little monsters er angels? Do I really have to break up continuous crying, screaming, hitting, fighting matches? Could they not just sit for 20 minutes peacefully and watch the damn show? Or better yet, go to their playroom which is full to the brim of all sorts of delightful toys and *gasp* play with the freakin toys?
Obviously, I ask too much. My brother is having a pig roast today. Yes, he's roasting a pig. No we are not barbarians.. well... he is. I'm just going for the potluck and yes I'll be eating pig. So in the interests of saving money I and my husband decided to make our own buns to contribute (that and devilled eggs). Of course, hubby may have the bright idea but guess who the actual making of the buns falls down to. Yes, you guessed it.
So I rolled out of bed this a.m. bent over with this ongoing bad back I've had for the past week and decided to make bread dough. Yes, this semi suzy homemaker actually made bread dough from scratch. Course I used the bread machine to make the actual dough. So all I needed was about 20 minutes to roll the freakin dough. Course I didn't get that as I had to dash into the living room with greasy dough covered hands and grab O for a time out, snap at J to stop crying and threaten E within an inch of her life to stop bugging her sister and brother. You know those annoying little sticking your foot out and touching your sibling... barely. The said sibling instantly screams, starts crying and yelling at you that E is touching them. O. M. G. That is just a taste of what 20 minutes in kiddie hell can be like.
So I finished up my dough balls, rising before I even get the last one rolled and, of course, they want their snacks I had been promising them for the last 40 minutes. By this point I am so steamed that I told them that was it, no snacks. If they can't help me out.. I can't help them out. Which, of course, turns into a prolonged shrill crying fest. J has perfected the annoying cry down to an art form.
Then I ask myself, why do I set myself up for this crap? Why even bother trying to make or do anything outside of the normal mommy taking care of the kids and house stuff? Why, why, why, why?
Good news, is once the crying has stopped they've gone off to play. Bad news, they are still torturing each other but less so. E is on a timeout for biting J's bum. Yeah.. how that happened, I have no idea.
At least its only 40 minutes till lunch time and I'll get at least 5 minutes of peace and quiet while they are shoving food into their surprisingly large mouths.