Though You Will Be Tempted, Please Do Not Call CPS

Do you ever want to just punch your kids in the face? Like, for real?

I'm not a violent person. I've had my share of people who annoy or piss me off, but I have never been prone to actual physical violence. Ok, so technically I have thrown a remote control at Wiener's head a couple of times and have threatened to kill a few people, but my bark is worse than my bite.

But no one has ever incited rage in me quite like my evil minions. They really are good kids for the most part, but there are still a lot of days I want to literally throttle them.

Now before you get all pc and call CPS, just relax. I have never throttled them or punched them in the face. Like everyone else, we have our good days and our bad. This was a bad day.

The novelty of summer is wearing quite thin around our house. Devil baby actually still goes to pre-school three days a week, but Fifi is here most days. So being bored as usual, Fifi begged Wiener to play a game or do some science or magic tricks with her. He obliged and she had a snit fit the entire time because she wanted to do each part herself and, unfortunately, one trick involved lighting a candle and allowing her to play with fire was a non-starter.

After the scientific experiments were over, both girls whined and begged for more. Fifi was pouting and saying she didn't get to do anything (even though she did) and the situation just went to hell in a hand basket. I went into a frenzy calling them ungrateful little shits that were never happy or satisfied with anything.

Then I did what all other moms do when at whit's end- shut down and drifted off to Fantasyland. You know what Fantasyland is; the special place in your head where you're convinced other kids are perfect and wonder how you ended up with the demon spawn. Then you start comparing yours to these fictitious perfect children and imagine delightful family scenarios you're sure are taking place right this very second in all homes worldwide.

Admittedly, Fantasyland is mostly a product of Disney movies and Facebook posts by braggart parents, but I daydreamed nonetheless:

I was imagining life in the late 1800's. Two rosy cheeked young nymphs were gathered at their father's knee watching in amazement as he performed mysterious feats like producing a doubloon (maybe they were a pirate family) from their ears.

They squealed with sheer joy and their eyes were as round as saucers. "Oh papa, that is a wonderful parlor trick. Thank you so very kindly for spending time with us, sir. It was very fine indeed, pip pip Cheerio." (Maybe they're British. British kids can't misbehave with those accents, can they?)

Disturbed by more whining, I paused for a moment to tell devil baby to shut her baby hole or go to time out. Fifi then said she would pour water on me and watch me melt because I'm a witch. Touché.

I know what you're thinking. I'm just a big fat meanie and why did I have kids in the first place if I wasn't going to adore their every waking breath and delight in their impish ways? Especially since so many want kids and cannot have them, I should be more appreciative of them and never think thoughts of harm or punishment, right?

Whatever, you liars. You know deep down you'd pop the little shits if you could. You're just jealous I have the balls to admit it.

Devil Baby

*No minions were throttled, punched or popped in the making of this post.