If I were a happy camper, I'd be reveling in the fact that it's Friday. Clearly I'm not that chipper as "thank God it's Friday" is quite possibly the last thing I feel like saying right now. What a morning it's been. I'm tempted to launch into a tirade filled with expletives, but am chanting to myself "this is a G-rated blog, this is a G-rated blog." Know that I'm silently screaming over and over and over in my head.

The girls cannot, should not, and must not be left alone. At all. Not even for one flippin' minute. I'm the dumb-ass who should know better, but for some reason I keep giving them the benefit of the doubt. After they got into the toothpaste and hand soap this morning (which is like, I don't know, the tenth time this week), they went back in the bathroom and got into my makeup bag. You would think me not being a makeup kind of girl would mean that this wasn't such a big deal. Not so. Kate colored her face with my eye liner. Julia was sucking on my big, bushy, blush brush. GROSS.

After cleaning them up, I finally smartened up and locked the bathroom door (thank god it's easy to pick that lock or I'd be screwed). I made the girls come down to the basement with me. Silly me, I thought I could put a show on for them and they'd be placated while I continued my never-ending, online search for kids' bedding. About five minutes into Mickey Mouse, they told me they had to go upstairs to get some books. Harmless, I thought. Foolish, foolish Mommy ignored the fact that it was eerily silent upstairs. Ten whopping minutes later, I decided to go check things out. Um, yeah. Both girls were standing on chairs they had pulled up to the kitchen sink. Julia had pulled out every single Lysol wipe from the container and was lining them up between the sink and the counter. Kate had found a new way to entertain herself with the dish soap--holding it upside down over the sink and squeezing the shit out of it. I estimate we lost roughly half of the bottle. I asked them (barely holding back tears) what on earth they thought they were doing. Kate demanded that I go back to the basement while glaring at me, and Julia smiled as she informed me they were cleaning. What in the hell is this???? Where are they coming up with this stuff? They have so many toys we barely have room to live and it's more fun to play with dishsoap and eyeliner???? Are you kidding me?

My house is a mess, I have zero energy to clean, and I'm toying around with the idea of breaking my leg. A month in a quiet hospital room sounds more blissful and rejuvenating than a week at the spa.

God help me.