Reasons why my kids suck the life out of me

1. When I ask JC to point to his chin, he points to his chin.  When I ask him to point to my chin, he chooses my neck.

2. LB pointed to a picture of Jesse James (the biker dude) and said, "It's you, Mommy!"  Gee, thanks.

3. Without a tummy tuck, my stomach will never, ever, ever look like it did pre-baby.  I know I should get over it, but I can't.

4. My house is filthy 24/7.  It is only clean if the boys are out with Hubby and I can clean in peace.  But as soon as they return, they track in dirt, get fingerprints on all glass or mirror surfaces, miss the potty when peeing, spill juice from "leak-proof" cups, wipe snot all over my clothes, drip crumbs all over the table and chairs and floor,.....

5. They do not listen to anything I say, but snap to attention when Hubby uses the Dad-yell.

6. They have frequent episodes of manic-depression.  One minute, they're begging for help, but as soon as I touch them, they yell "I do it myself!".

7. Taking a shower is out of the question when they are awake.  They will destroy anything in reach, which is everything now that the little one can climb.  I often go about four days without showering.  It's gross, I know.  The same applies for washing my face and brushing my teeth, unless I knock that out before breakfast.

8. Public tantrums are draining.  It usually is reduced to me just dragging LB by the arm while holding a wriggling JC.

9. Daytime television is strictly PBS, Disney, or Nickelodeon.  I have zero interest in any of those.  It's so bad that I found myself thinking the other morning that the Imagination Movers were hot.... yeesh.

10. Putting an angry kid in his carseat is like strapping in a bobcat.  I have to use all my strength and end up with bites and scratches.

11. My most meaningful conversations during the day revolve around someone else's excrement.

12. Privacy on the toilet is a luxury that I do not have.

13. Personal space is also a luxury I do not have.

14. LB is what some child development psychologists call a "high-intensity" child.  I guess my reward for being patient all my life is to have a child that needs the most patience a human can offer.

15. Nothing can be kept nice here.  Folded blankets are an invitation to mess them up, newly made beds for houseguests in two days are trampolines, and walls only exist to ram trucks into, or to color on.

What do your kids do that suck the life out of you?