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Today is notable for 3 things:
1. Clooney jumped on the couch all by himself. Awww. He's a big boy now.
2. I did not kill my children as I so deeply desired.
3. It's not f%^&*ing Sunday

It was a blow to me, I will be honest. After listening to my children bitch, whine and moan all morning, M and I decided to take them to the Chili/Gumbo Showdown at South. We know they don't eat chili or gumbo, Mom. But, there was an inflatable playground, balloons, and such crap that usually interests children. Plus, it was a nice walk around on an otherwise soggy day.
Then, M and I got to listen to the children whine, bitch and moan through that. How, exactly, does S think I can fix mud on the ground? What magical freaking powers do I have to stop the water from turning dirt into mud?
What is going through my head right now makes Christian Bale look like a Victorian Treatise in Manners.
So, tonight, after they had bitched and whined and moaned all afternoon, I was cleaning dishes and filled with a sense of Zen. I rolled my eyes to M, who said to me, "It's going to be ok. I had to remind myself today that sitting around with the family isn't so bad. Sure, it was annoying, and sure they didn't stop fighting. And sure, they didn't obey, help, or in any way contribute anything positive today, but it's going to be ok."
And, me, in my stardazed eyes, enhanced by the effects of one rum and Coke Zero, replied dreamily, "I know. And I know because tomorrow, there is school."
And then there was this sound. A knowing cackle, a mocking giggle, a hideous sound of knowledge I did not have. "What?" I demanded. "What?"
"Tomorrow's Sunday."
Insert Christian Bale's rant here.