Bad Mommy

Today is not my favorite. I'm battling with my husband, have not worked out in three days and am mothering children who more resemble caged animals than little girls. It being Monday and all, I do understand the grains of salt one must hold onto in order to survive these kinds of days. But all that salt seems to be doing is finding its way into the scratches, scrapes and claw marks left behind by my family.

I pose this question: Do they treat us badly because we truly are as insignificant as they can make us feel on any given day? Or is it just because we are always here, and haven't packed a bag and taken off yet, so they think there's a better chance than not that we'll be staying no matter what they say or do to make us want to do otherwise?

I now understand why certain moms go on strike. I'm seriously contemplating one here. Because nothing else is getting my point across. The proverbial straw? As follows:

Meghan: "Can we go somewhere with rides today?"
Mom: "No."
Meghan: (storming away, stomping feet) "I hate mommy."

Yep. I'm thinking going on strike is just what is in order.