Please only read this if you like anger.

This is a vent post.

I'm kind of surprised I still pretty much have it together right now. Today I (voluntarily) have the Jensen's 3 boys, in addition to my own 3. Things have gone reasonably well, considering. But 5 of them have gone with no naps, and I think I have heard someone burst into screaming tears of rage somewhere between 30 and 40 times today (probably 20 to 30 of those times were my kids).

This morning I ran to the store while I only had 3 with me, just before we went to pick up the other 3 from school. Right when we got in the store, the 3 boys started fighting over the 2 spots in the car grocery cart. I got that under control, and Josh and Brig (the 2 boys who are over 40 pounds, of course), agreed to sit in the double baby section in the front of the cart right by me. Have you ever lifted a portly 4 and a half year old above your head? It's not easy. [someone just burst into tears.... and, consoled.] I had Josh jump to help me heft the bulk up there. Then I put my hands under Brig's armpits expecting him to jump, but he didn't. So I said, "jump." In my experience, most kids bend their knees in preparation for a jump. Not this kid, bless his heart. He just blasts off like a rocket. So I took a bludgeon to the bottom of the chin, and saw some stars. I think a few people had gathered to watch the circus by this point, and heard me say, "DAMMIT," without restraint. I was beyond holding it under my breath. I think I have uttered that phrase about 10 times today. Of course, the requests, fighting, crying, and questions are no respecters of pain, so I was still fielding questions and consoling fighting children while I was holding back my own tears. (keep in mind that this whole time I am in a crazy hurry to pick up the kids from school on time, so that I don't have to have 6 kids with me at the store.) Still seeing stars, I captain the vessel they have the audacity to call a shopping cart around the corner, and we get about 10 feet before our cab driver, Isaac, starts freaking out. I checked in with him to find him shrinking to a corner of the cab and pointing to a huge rat's nest of hair, suspended in static electricity, where his feet should go. I managed to procure one of those papers that you grab a donut with, and just closed my eyes and reached in there, aiming for the bulk of the hair. At this point I am dry heaving, and can barely see through my tears. As luck would have it, the nearest garbage can was a thousand miles away, in the corner of the produce section. So on our way over there, hairball paper in tow, it sounds like someone is calling my name from behind me. I ignore it. Move on. I don't really care who it was. And I guess when you look like you are pushing a primary-colored clown car with little midget clowns laughing hysterically, shoving each other, getting in and out/on and off of the cart, and occasionally screaming, people either roll their eyes, or they like to smile and connect with me, sharing a bonding moment to communicate, hey, you're doing a good thing. Usually I appreciate this support, but I tell you, I almost wrung the employee's neck who cheerfully greeted the children and myself at this point in time. I was seeing red. This is a bad way to start off a shopping trip. Fortunately, it got better from there, and by the end I was congratulating myself for keeping my head above the water of rage.

Another time I uttered the aforementioned phrase was this morning when I was trying to fill up our little soap dispenser in the kitchen, that attaches under the sink. I spilled about a quarter cup of Dawn into the sink (I HATE waste, and I always take special care to use ONLY the amount of dish soap that I need), and had 2 boys right there asking me to explain in detail why I was upset. Then I about keeled over reaching an arm's length under the sink and trying to push up hard enough, while twisting, to get the thing to screw on, and failing repeatedly, with the cupboard digging into my neck and shoulder, and at least one child leaning on me. It was after I finally succeeded, and I was finally washing the dishes (at 10:00 a.m., still in my bath robe), with the wide, furry sleeves of my bath robe getting wet in the dish water, that I snapped. I ripped off that ridiculous bath robe, rolled it up in a ball, and threw it on the ground. I also had an audience for that, and they calmly asked me to explain my behavior.

Then I got to briefly visit with Suzy's lovely mother and her husband, whom I was meeting for the first time.... in my brown furry bath robe with my hair slicked into a bobby pin. Perfect.

Anyway, usually it's pretty hard for me to recover from a day that starts out that way. I think it is helping that I am just taking a few minutes to get it out of me and into a blog post. But I am pretty happy that I am not storming out of the house in a fit of rage right now.

But as it is I have 3 ornery children asking for dinner. So, over and out.