Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Aliens have taken over

-- pshhhhhhhhhh --

Something. Is. Not. Very. Good. Here.

Little. Strange. People. Living. In. House.

Do. Not. Understand. Them.

Worried. I. Can't. Make. It. Another. Day.

Torture. Has. Begun.


Dear Universe:

I've been going through the motions of this ride called Motherhood this week and just about each step has made me question if, perhaps, my house and life has been invaded by sources from another planet.

These are not my children. They can't be mine. There's no way they came out of me.

No, sirs or madams. Please send me back my sweet toddlers, who threw tantrums and cried only half the day -- not all day.

Please, I beg you, return my little angels in one piece and statements like, "Just Shoot Me Now," shall never be uttered again. I swear on your spacey-aged music.

For if you leave these "foreign objects" here any longer I am afraid I will need my own gadget to ride me out of here, to a place where I will suddenly understand the language, where "no" means no, "yes" means yes and we can all pick one or the other instead of staying somewhere in the middle of yesnoyesnoyesno land.

And the hitting. I'm sorry, but hitting, pinching, slapping, kicking and throwing should mean time out and time out should mean stop what you just did and that means don't do it again -- NOT two seconds later.

And, please take with you all articles of clothing that look remotely cool enough for 2 toddlers to want to wear at the same time. And shove our ONE swing in that vehicle of yours, too, because if I have to drag another child out of it to put another one into it, well, let's just say that meteors will be the least of your troubles.

Finally, if you bring my girls back, I am sure that I will at least be able to keep a shiny, happy smiling face on until 8/ 8:15 a.m. which I understand this week has been a bit of a stretch.

I have tried my best to take care of your space children, though I understand you may think otherwise. At least I get them out of their beds in the morning as they cry frantically for their daddy, who is at work and will not be home for 12 hours. At least I hug them and apologize for the fifth time that hour that we do not have a car today and no we can't go for a ride. And, I swear that I will not lose my temper, again, when they are brawling on the kitchen floor and I haven't even poured the breakfast cereal in the bowl.

Please. Beam. That. Earthling. Who. Thought. I. Could. Handle. Two. 2-year-olds.

Please. Send. Help.

--pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh --



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10 comments:

Chaotic Joy said...

Awww. I am so sorry you have been having one of "those" kind of weeks. I know them very well. And without a car. You poor thing. Have you locked yourself in your bedroom while they scream yet? That's when I know I am headed over the edge. :)

LauraC said...

Oh my, you make me scared of the terrible twos! Hope things improve soon!

bella said...

HAng in there.
And know you are not alone.
there are ages, days, weeks, that just suck.
I hope you are having some little pockets of time for yourself.
love you.

Kasie @ ~The Art of Life~ said...

I wish I had some great snippet of advice. I don't. But as a Momma I totally understand!
(((Hugs!))))
I hope today is much better for you.

village mama said...

Sending you help vibes ((( ))), hope you feel their loving power.

Momma Bean said...

Could the spaceship swing by to pick up a couple of Beans too? Please?!?!?!?

(I had to laugh at the swing thing as I finally caved and bought a second swing from Craigslist the other day. Peace! For awhile at least.)

Shannon said...

Peace? There.Can.Be.No.Peace.

LOL

Jena Strong said...

Any response? Yes? No?

kisatrtle said...

I'm smiling because I know first hand your struggle. Add bus stops and spellings words and Everyday Math to the list and you have an idea what aliens live here. One is claiming to be my 9 year old daughter, but she dresses and speaks to me like she is 15. Eye rolls and door slams. Ahh the sounds of morning. Hope you week starts improving. Peace

RocketMom said...

A post after my own alien invasion. I mean, I thought they were from the funny farm, but maybe they are really aliens.

Locking self in bedroom while they scream outside has become one of my best coping mechanisms.