WARNING: Here Be Dragons....

NOTE:  Just in case I have given anyone who comes to the Lemon Stand for all the rainbows and puppy dogs that this blog tends to imply is the reality of our household... I am republishing a post that I wrote back in July of 2006.  (Unfortunately the down side of having to quit blogging is that you can't save your blog posts or comments.  Or at least you couldn't back then) I'll have a more positive post before the day is out.

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I must be serious today.  So if this is a problem for anyone who comes here for the laugh-riot that is our family ::seriously sarcastic tone of voice today:: WARNING: skip to previous posts.

No. Really. The following is NOT pretty.

You have been warned....

Last night the planets converged, the hormones ran rampant, all children turned into wild, uncontrollable wildebeests! Temper tantrums from all offspring at the same time.

It started with everyone getting into the van and suddenly it was "Let's Aggravate The Mother Day!" They were singing annoying songs, repeatedly. Even after one or more of the rest of the family had requested either different musical entertainment or complete quiet.  (I voted for the latter, thank you very much.)

The kids were offending each other with incredible ease and creativity.  I am raising kids who have not a drop of human kindness for their fellow man (much less their own sisters) running through their veins.  (I am such a failure as a parent!)

The whining, however, had tipped the scales for me by the time we finally got home and I was ready to rip the head off the next child who came to me and said "Mom, she said/did/wants/makes ::fill in the blank::"

Do not try to picture this in your mind. Instead, imagine world peace. Love for your fellow man. Undying family loyalty. None of which were found at our house last night.

So in an effort to keep my sanity and be able to put back on the peacekeeper hat, I sent myself to my bedroom for a time out after we got back.

OK, we'll call a spade a spade and the truth is that I HID from the kids before I did something that, although would've felt wonderful in the moment, would probably have had me sporting stripes as a cell mate of a big, buff, woman wrestler with tattoo's that said "Daddy" and maybe snakes running up the length of her arms doing the mamba and an evil looking dragon over her entire back. Body piercings at maximum limit in places that hurt just to think about them much less look at. And did I mention that she would probably have a voodoo doll that looked just like me and when she smiled, the teeth she had remaining would be gold tipped?

See? It doesn't take long sometimes to realize that you don't necessarily have to make lemonade from the lemons. Sometimes you can picture what those lemons would look like being lobbed by a cell mate and then you can relax and know that getting hit with a lemon in the comfort of your own home can be acceptable. Fun even.  It's just a matter of perspective.  Right?  Is the lemonade glass half full or half empty?

OK, with zen achieved I went back down stairs with a smile pasted on my face ::Funeral March Playing, dragging my feet to the noose:: and continued on with life's necessary chores. Mediating squabbles, washing dishes, mediating squabbles, making dinner, mediating squabbles, with nary a police report filed for bad behavior. (Just repeat after me "Good Mommy.  Good Mommy.  Good Mommy.")

It's pretty bad when my husband calls before he comes home just so he'll know whether to wear the Kevlar or not.

Watch, tonight I'll be dreaming of my new cell mate.....

QOTD: "The place where optimism most flourishes is the lunatic asylum." Havelock Ellis (1859-1939) The Dance Of Life