You know how it goes... The kids are home from school. The house that was pristine not 30 minutes ago has been transformed into a war zone littered with last weeks homework papers, shoes, announcements from the school, dirty socks, and lunch boxes. The kids are hungry and a little bit grouchy after a long day at school. I, on the other hand, am very hungry and grouchy after a long day of starvation (1200 calories is not adequate) and laundry.
I ask, for the 9,000th time, the kids to pick up their
freakin' crap that literally seems to cover every square inch of the kitchen - even the floor stuff. As the kids slowly begin gathering their belongings I can literally feel grumpiness oozing from my pores. Because really, it's like Groundhog Day, and we seem to need to replay this exact scene every. single. day.
In a move not destined to win me Mother of the Year I begin griping at the kids:
At this point I had taken my rant inside my head where it belongs and wasn't really paying attention.
Note to self: In the future do not end rants with rhetorical questions that beg to be answered with unflattering comments.
I almost didn't notice when Rachel said:
Her comment floated in the air momentarily as we locked eyes. I gave her my fiercest evil-mommy-death-stare, and then I sent her to her room for being sassy.
As she glumly plodded up the stairs I could hear her mumbling to herself that those are the kind of comments you're supposed to say in your head, and not out loud.
And I could hear the other three giggling softly around the corner...