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I am writing this from the Starbucks in a Barnes & Noble.  I have become THAT blogger. It is 6:12 and I have abandoned my children to the care of their father.  He will hopefully be explaining to them that their behavior today caused to me to quit their presence the minute he walked in the door.  I had to get away from them.  Immediately.

The day started promisingly.  We went to the gym and had plans to go to the library and a splash pad.  Our plans were quickly derailed.  Katie, who has been suffering from some mystery little kid stomach thing, had explosive diarrhea.  Like, it was dripping from her diaper onto the floor.  They had to wash her shoes.  It was so gross.  Besides having to leave the gym, we couldn’t go to the splash pad.  The other children couldn’t comprehend the reality of the situation.  “Can’t we leave her at home?”  “She can watch!  She loves to watch me play while you hold her!”  “She hasn’t pooped since it was dripping from her pants.  She can come now!”  They were furious when none of their arguments proved persuasive enough.

After her nap, we decided we needed Gatorade to help her feel better.  A trip to Wal-Mart, which is the closest store to us, used up my patience.  “I want to ride in the cart!”  “I want out!”  “Can you carry me?”  “Watch me touch everything in this aisle!”  

Unfortunately, the library really couldn’t be put off.  We had books due.  I could have just put them in the drive-thru return.  I should have done that.  But, I pushed it.  I wanted another book.  I’m on a reading kick and I want to continue it.  After a stern admonition to be quiet and just look at the super cool doll house in the children’s section, I went to the fiction section with Katie.  Within a minute, maybe two, I heard Ellie’s screams of joy reverberate through the library.  She and James were playing tag around the doll house display case.  I ran, awkwardly in flip-flops while carrying Katie, to them and dragged them out.  I really couldn’t have been more embarrassed.  It was so terrible.

Okay, so we’re home.  Katie and Ellie nap.  James is sent to his room to “think about how he can improve his behavior and set a better example for his sisters.”  Instead, he decides to pretend he is Nik Wallenda and walk across his windowsill.  He falls, of course.  He landed on his cushy Pottery Barn Anywhere Chair (thanks for that purchase, Mom!  Still using it, albeit not for its intended purpose) and was fine.  Except that he managed to pull down his curtains and curtain rod in the process.  To his credit, he immediately confessed.  Before I saw the damage we discussed how even though the curtains coming down was an “accident”, walking on the windowsill certainly wasn’t and he can’t really claim no fault.  After I repaired the damage, which was minimal really, I told him he wouldn’t be able to play his new Indiana Jones 2 Wii game.  You’d have thought I told him I was going to take a hammer to the whole game system.  Then he said it.  “You’re the worst mom ever and I hate you.  I’m going to tell all my friends that you are the worst mom.  They are going to hate you too.”

He’s said he hates me before.  I’ve been called the worst mom before.  This time was not totally different.  But after taking the whole day of crap, pun intended, this was the last straw.  I cried.  I cried a lot.  I didn’t get mad when Katie had the grossest diaper in the history of Mountainside Fitness (their words) (not that I would blame her for having intestinal distress, but I wasn’t even mad about the situation, I was so calm!).   I didn’t yell when they were running up and down the paint aisle at Wal-Mart yelling for an employee to open the spray paint cage.  I didn’t yell in the library, just snatched them up and quickly escaped the disapproving eyes.  I thought I’d actually been a pretty good mom today.  I guess not.  I was the worst.  I am hated.

So, I’m here.  In the B&N Starbucks.  Blogging.  Ugh.  I want to slap myself.  At least I’m the only one doing it.  I’m not in a group of bloggers, blogging about bloggers.  That would be almost as embarrassing as my kids playing scream tag in a library.