I am having a moment right now. One of those "moments" when I feel like everything that has been building up in my already insane mind explodes and I feel kind of like I can't breathe. I believe medical professionals call this an anxiety attack.
My day started with a cranky Mario getting ready for school. Then I spent 2 hours at the medical center. First for Luigi to go to occupational therapy, then to take Peach to the pediatrician to look at her ears and eyes. Not what I would call a "fun" morning. But, the afternoon will get better, right?
Here is a recap of the last 30 minutes and why my day has spiraled downward so far that I feel I might need a cocktail at 2:30, yes, 2:30 in the afternoon.
30 minutes ago: Luigi, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, hey Mommy!" Repeat 398 times in the next 5 minutes.
25 minutes ago: Wake up Peach from her nap. Peach is not feeling well today. She has an ear infection AND pink eye. Because just one of them isn't enough. Wake her up and she thrashes at my face as though I am a terrible monster trying to eat her. She thrashes so hard that she rips my glasses off my face and leaves claw marks across my neck.
19 minutes ago: Luigi and Peach in unison, "Color! Color! Color!" And this is when I could feel the pressure rising in my chest. Luigi loves to peel the paper off of the crayons. And he doesn't do it in one swift motion. It is a slow, methodical peel, peel, peel. And it drives me INSANE!
17 minutes ago: I say, "Luigi, please stop peeling the paper off the crayons and leaving a trail around the house. Please." Peel.
15 minutes ago: Luigi says, "Mommy, we are hungry!" Peach follows with, "Color, color, color!" All the while the peeling is still happening.
13 minutes ago: Trying not to scream at the top of my lungs, "Luigi, here is your googurk (yogurt), now please stop peeling the paper off the crayons!" Peel, peel, peel.
11 minutes ago: Try to force Peach into taking her antibiotic for her ears. She is gagging and spitting and thrashing. Sticky antibiotic everywhere. Peel, peel. "Eat your googurk, Luigi. Peach, honey, take your medicine, baby."
8 minutes ago: Finally get medicine in Peach. Take crayons away from Luigi. "If you can't stop peeling the crayons, you don't get to color." Sweep floor for 3,476th time today. It still doesn't look clean. The anxiety bubble is rising in my throat.
7 minutes ago: Luigi got the crayons again. Peel, peel, peel. "For the LOVE OF CHRIST!!! Please STOP peeling the crayons!!!!!" Peel, peel. Take crayons away again.
6 minutes ago: Peach is crying because she wants the crayons. She has done nothing wrong. What to do? Give her the crayons and watch woefully as Luigi grabs one and begins again. Peel, peel, peel.
4 minutes ago: Bowser comes out of his office for a potty break. Grabs something to drink. Looks in slow cooker and says, "Oh. I guess that is dinner?" Then hands Luigi the still dirty bowl from the potty seat and says, "bring this to Mommy."
2 minutes ago: Peach decides that throwing crayons all over the floor will be a really fun idea. Throw, peel, throw, peel, throw, peel.
1 minute ago: Look around at my floor that has been swept almost a trillion times today and still see crayon paper and crayons everywhere. Look into office and see Bowser happily browsing some manly website about tools. Listen to the sound of Luigi telling me for the 10,768,594th time that he likes trains. Look at Peach squishing banana and yogurt and crayons together in her hands and tossing wads onto the floor. Screaming ensues (from me). Ranting and raving commences (again, from me). Everyone looks at Mommy as though she has truly dropped her marbles, but really, Mom, I need you to fix this train for me, so could you pause from your mental breakdown?
And this is why I know my friend Nick at the liquor store on a first name basis. I need some vodka now. And a valium if you have one. I'll be the one mumbling incoherently about peeled crayons in the corner.