Vodka with Lemons. Thanks.

It's been one of "those" days. You know, the kind where your kids think they are being uber original with their debauchery... oh look - a two year old throwing a temper tantrum over no more Paw Patrol episodes; because that is something no toddler has ever done in the history of toddlerdom...

Some days I have my sh*t together. I rock out motherhood like a bad impression of Wonder Woman. I on the surface totally fake having my crap together and all seems relatively well as long as no one unexpectedly stops by.

Sure! Let's go to the park, um.... no..... I don't "host" playdates at my beach shanty. Sorry, not sorry.

See my dining room table resembles the mount Olympus equivalent of clean laundry to fold, dishes are always needing to be washed, my border collie sheds so much she establishes a great fur wall against my white baseboards and I'm pretty sure I rarely see the hardwood floors in my kids bedrooms because since moving to Florida, completing their chores has become somewhat of a fantasy.

But today, today has been extraordinary. I'm pretty positive my kids are intentionally chucking metaphorical lemons at my face... and here I thought they would be happy to be on summer break. But no. No. Today, my six year old has decided she is going to follow me around the house while I clean, proclaiming all the wishes of stuff she had. "I wish... I wish you'd buy me everything I want mom", "I wish you would just stop what you are doing and find my bracelet", "I wish I was the only child", "I wish you'd just do my chores for me and buy me a barbie already", "ugh mom! cleaning is your job not mine! okay!" See, my dear child can earn $5.00 a week just doing her chores which is by no means asking too much of her. But instead she keeps declaring that finding her stuff and cleaning up after her is "my" job. Them be fightin words.

"My job... my job... is to make sure you are a decent human being that hopefully, eventually I will actually want to hang out with. My "job" is to teach you how to do certain things around the house so gasp I don't have to. My "job" is to make sure you enter adulthood with the capabilities of being able to care for yourself, because my darlin... we live in Florida, basements don't exist and you will be self sufficient. My job isn't to make your childhood magical or easy. I'm not your buddy, I am your mother. I'm not your maid. I am your mother. One day, this will make more sense to you.

And then my four year old casually walks past this heated conversation slinking into the laundry room with wet pants. Again. He peed himself while playing, again. This is his "thing"... only when at home this child is so micro focused on playing that he simply forgets to use the restroom. Hippy moms hold on to your green smoothies, I slapped a diaper on that boy and told him if he was going to act like a baby, he'd be treated like one. Sometimes humiliation works. Sometimes when your kid is literally being the laziest version of themselves possible, you gotta put sh*t into perpsctive. No one said parenting was pretty.

All I wanted to do was clean my floors and tidy my house up so my weekend wasn't spent slaving over preparing for Monday morning. Instead my 8 year old whined she was withering away from starvation despite having 2 breakfast and a snack and I had to place all four of my kids in timeout so I could finish washing the dishes without having to be a circus ringleader or referee yelling out directions or fouls made by my chromosome crew.

So tonight.. this evening.. yes, I would like to add some vodka to the lemonade I made with the lemons my kids catapulted at me all day. I love my kids... but some days are better than others, and today was DEFCON 5!