Monday, July 23, 2012

Someone please come arrest my children.

So after a weekend of fun-filled house destruction, I, mommy, have deemed today, Clean Up Day.

Which means essentially that I clean one room, walk into another room, and then my kids completely decimate the room that I have just finished cleaning.

It's a frustrating process, but I have started shooing them from the rooms that I have already cleaned, leaving the Terrible Threes quarantined to the living room.

Which, of course, means my living room looks like a dungeon from a horror movie. Toys strewn all over, remnants of their lunch stuck to every flat surface, cereal from breakfast mashed into the carpet. Every shiny surface marked with their tiny peanut butter fingerprints. Pillows squashed into the floor, undoubtedly used as protection from carpet lava. My couch cushions left just laying on the floor, reeling from the abuse of having been jumped upon and then flung aside like a two dollar whore.

But I will persevere.

I cleaned my bedroom, which they were banned from the very second that I made the bed and Holden ran in and threw my blankets onto the floor.

I cleaned the kids' room, which they were banned from when Holden dumped the pail of garbage that I was collecting onto the floor and spread it all over the carpet. And then double banned from when Cora ran in and  jumped onto Holden's bed, which contained all of their freshly lysoled mattresses and pillows and promptly knocked them all to the floor like giant steel-coil filled dominos.

They got banned from the bathroom, when Holden insisted on shutting and guarding the bathroom door, blocking my only source of ventilation, save my shitty vent fan (which lets be honest, they're decorative) and I started getting a little light headed (that Holden is really an asshole today).

If I were a police officer, I would have arrested them for interfering with police business. Someone please come arrest my children. They are preventing me from making any actual progress.

My only solace so far today was the little mental vacation that I got to take from them for the five whole minutes I vacuumed their room.

I shut and locked the door.

Alone at last, no one to bother me. The smell of the Tropical Island carpet stuff that I shook onto the rug transported me to Hawaii. The loud hum of the vacuum muffling the sounds of children screaming for me at the top of their lungs and pounding on the door.

Aaaahhh. Paradise. I think I will make daddy tackle the living room, while I go make some daiquiris.....

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