Where is the eject button?

The reason I am going to kill myself is two-fold:

Wait. Let’s stop right there. You know what the worse thing about being a parent is? You can’t even kill yourself. When on my own, I could daydream about killing myself. Ending it all. Punching that eject button. SPLAT.

Now, I can’t even do that. That is not an option. I have to be a parent. And each self-indulgent fantasy about the sweet release of death when I finally have time to kill myself? All those daydreams are interrupted by the sad expressions on the face of my children.


I’m trying to be the center of the universe here, and there they are on their wedding days, crying because their mother selfishly ended her own life. BUZZKILLS.

So, I guess I’m not going to kill myself.

But I am going to whine.

Do you know how much of a mindfreak it is to clean the same mess every single day? It’s like going to the same party for 20 years, only without the buzz. Most of the time.

These children are killing me. I cannot keep up. I would do better to give them lighters and follow them around with a fire extinguisher. That would be quicker to put out than sweeping up a pound of cornmeal while they smear poop on the walls.

This stage of life is too much and there are too many of them and they are trying to end me.

They are using chairs and other objects to stack and climb to access off-limits materials. They have some type of underground laboratory where they retreat to manufacture permanent markers because I SWEAR we rid our house of ALL REAL INK several months ago.

I am blogging instead of cleaning right now because if I have to look at my filthy kitchen one more time, I will kill … I will … I don’t know. Do something DRASTIC. (Just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?)

Something that will NOT send me to jail, because I don’t want to miss my daughter’s wedding for being in the slammer.

UGH. I am a moth. Crushed by the wheel.

I spent the entire week last week scrubbing every corner of my house because I could no longer stand living in the filth.

I said to myself, “This is going to be so nice to finally live in a clean house. I’m NEVER going to have to do this again.”

I totally ignored my children, justifying that all this cleaning and reorganizing now would allow me unhindered time to play with them later. Finally, we could cross 30 or 40 things off those lists on Pinterest, “101 Things to do in winter with your toddler.”

Do you know how long my clean house lasted?

Two days.


And the only reason it lasted that long is because WE WERE NOT IN IT.

Five days of non-stop work and it was back to filth in TWO DAYS.

There is no point to my existence.

That is all.

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  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=622220821 Brandy Orndorf

    i believe you just typed what was running through my mind these past 6 months. welcome to the club of my-only-identity is, “hey, could you get/do/help”. just when i was realizing that i might actually enjoy doing something else other than hostage (aka mother of minors)

  • Melinda

    You are not alone. I am a stay-at-home and had 3 kids in 3 years. I was so overwhelmed and whacked out…I love my kids with all I have but they are working together to destroy me.
    It just started getting better bc my oldest started Kindergarten so there is 1 less conspirator in the house on school days.
    Visit flylady.net if you get a minute. She really helped me from jerking the wheel. I would also advise you to drink red wine in the evenings and wear a tiara when you clean bathrooms.

    • http://andshebangs.com lyndseyteter@gmail.com

      I actually wear my wedding tiara when cleaning the bathroom. hehehe. I have never heard of Fly Lady, but she uses timers! I am slightly obsessed with timers! Excted to try!

  • QuilterMom

    This too will pass….from someone WAY down the road of motherhood and lived to see these times.  At 50 something after raising 2 wonderful girls, now more than capable women, I will tell you that each phase has its ups and downs.   Never having a clean house is your down right now.   Being able to hang out with too incredibly adorable and more miraculous acting/sounding/being by the minute children is the up.   My advice here….”You can never take enough video/pictures.”  Years from now, and I mean YEARS….even decades, you WILL have the time to watch them.   They will help you remember the smooshed banana face that gave you the most loving kiss while wiping it all over your hair.  The day one diaper clad imp tried to learn how to hop while listening to “Dinosaur Rock”, a classic kid album by the way.   How you used to ignore the naked Barbies hanging from the loft railing hoping it didn’t mean your kid would be into S & M later in life.  Wondering when they quit making tents out of that open space under the family room stairs, you will start to tear up and actually WISH YOU COULD GO BACK to those times in all of your lives.  Take it from an old pro.  These “times” you are experiencing are the easy ones.   Cherish.        

  • Lindsey Servé

    Your last two posts seem to contradict one or another. You have left me uncertain as to whether I should call the suicide hotline for you or if I should pack up and move to Bangs for me. All I ask for is a little consistency.