I don't curse. I don't neccessarily mind it when other people do it. I understand there are times when just an ordinary word won't do the trick. However, being a pious, goody-goody, it is something I never really picked up.
Well, I don't curse out loud.
I find myself cursing more and more in my head. And it leaves me wondering if there will come a day when all those pent up curse words will come spewing out, scalding and scorching whatever is nearby. @#*!@# I kind of feel like it's inevitable.
Something else that's been running around in my head today: I understand why some animals eat their young.
Yeah, it's been one of those #%*!@# days.
It didn't start out that way. It started out with the best of intentions. Last year we went to the aquarium and Brother took some pictures with his camera. Once we had the film developed and I saw they weren't all pictures of the wall or complete blackness, I bought him a little scrapbook, complete with some cool fish stickers and such. I thought today would be a good day to have him finally put his pictures into it. So I drag everything out and let him get to work. I try to hang back and let him do his own thing. I don't want to squelch his creative fire by saying things like, "You could crop that picture into a fish shape" or "use this color as a mat to bring out the orange in that fish". Seven-year-old boys aren't really into that, you know. Sister who has been happily playing with her Disney Princess play theatre decides she want to scrapbook also. Baby is happy with Daddy, so I find a little mini scrapbook kit I'd been saving for Sister and decide to let her have it. It's got all sorts of @#$%* fun stuff...glitter, jewels, ribbon. Not to mention the very girly stickers.
Now my entire kitchen table is covered with scrapbooking paraphenalia. I had this idea that I could just kind of let them do it themselves and I could unload the dishwasher. Yeah, I might have to stop and help Sister cut something, but for the most part, it should keep them busy for a little while, right? It was all part of my #$%@* plan. Baby was entertained. Brother and Sister were involved in a little creative project. Do a little reading. Maybe play a little game. Just kind of chill out and hang with Daddy today.
Oh, but plans change.
I wonder if it's the bickering, the whining or the children all simultaneously demanding something that drives the mother dingo to eat her children. Perhaps it is the youngest dingo, tired and cranky, clinging to her leg. Or maybe it's because she hasn't left the %$#*! den in a while and is finding herself feeling overworked and underpaid. I relate.
Hubby decides to fix the window in my van, so that leaves me with Baby, trying to help Brother and Sister scrapbook. They both want me to help them with this, help them with that. All the while Baby is not sure what she wants, but knows she wants me to give it to her. I'm feeling like ElastiGirl, being pulled in too many different directions. I'm trying to be patient, and teach my children to do the same. But my stomach knots up and I suddenly feel the urge to scream obscenities and throw something.
@#@##$%*! Bleeeeeeeeep! Bleeeeeeep! #$*%#@!@# Bleeeeeeeeeeep!
There. I'm feeling better now.