Every Day's a Hostage Situation

     That's how I feel most days. In case you didn't realize it, I'm the hostage and I live by the whims of my children/captors. I can't make plans because even the best laid will be contingent upon the moods of three, temperamental, asshats determined to be dictator of my schedule.

    I know if I didn't care about others' discomfort or what people thought this wouldn't be the case. If I didn't care I would take my howling brood wherever I needed or wanted to go.

  • Who cares that my kids disturb another's meal because of their lack of apparent table manners?

  • Who cares that my kids are screeching and taking pot shots at each other while mommy is trying to stand in line at the DMV? That might actually work to my advantage... hmm. 

  • Who cares that my kids knock over display, after display at the grocer because they're whirling like flipping dervishes? I could just get some of those my-kid-is-autistic-so-don't-mind-our-antics-business cards and then, to hell with everyone else!

     I think about saying to hell with it, and just let them have at each other pretty frequently. Saying fuck therapy and doctors and psychiatrists! I think about throwing out the meds that don't seem to work anyway; instead of free range kids, the Mommy Household's going Animal Kingdom.
     (I love my kids but I'm just so tired of being stuck behind these four walls.)

Peace Out!
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