It is official... they are out to get me. All of them-the little rug rats.
It is not enough that I give my life blood to keep them on their schedules everyday.
Who cares if I am up at the crack of dawn to get lunches packed and breakfast in little tummies.
Don't mind me if I have to make sure everyone brushes their teeth and actually washes their hair in a shower every day.
Big deal if I have to pick up millions of Lego pieces on any given Wednesday afternoon only to leave the room and have them all scattered across the carpet again on Thursday.
Who am I to complain if I have 7 loads of laundry to do on Saturday morning only to discover that I have forgotten to look under the bed to find the must-have uniform top on Monday morning.
It is really nothing that I have to give hair cuts in order to fix the treachery that the hair fairy inflicted upon a baby.
And so what if I have been changing diapers for 13 years... steady!
Really, it has been NO BIG DEAL... until today
Mary pooped in the bathtub tonight after dinner. This is the third night in a row that she has done this, that means that I have scrubbed a bathtub for three nights straight. If she weren't in the warm bath she would not poop, but she gets all relaxed and lets it rip.
Emma has been in the tub with her each evening that this happens. She is now so afraid to walk into the bathroom that I think she may start peeing on the bushes in the backyard.
I don't mind being a mother... really I don't, but I draw the line at fishing floating turds out of the tub every night.
I have to have some principles.