I cannot possibly make this stuff up…

EVER.
Mondays. are. stupid.
When I get to heaven, I’m going to have a good long talk with the Lord and tell Him that I think He should have just skipped right over day 1 and gone to day 2.
I am so not kidding.
I’ll entertain you with the Monday before last, better known as…
HORRIBLE RED HALLOWEEN MAKE-UP DAY.
I bet you think there are pictures forthcoming.  Nope. Not one.  I was entirely too traumatized to even consider it.
For those of you that know me well, you are well aware that my sweet little children (or anyone for that matter) talking to me or expecting my attention first thing in the morning is essentially the same as the president pushing the little red button that sets off a nuclear holocaust…
Now, imagine that type of personality waking up to the following:
Red. Halloween. Makeup.  ALL OVER MY TWINS.  Smeared on their sheets, ground into the bath towels, swirled across the cabinets, dotted onto the CUSTOM MADE bedskirts and quilts, and finally, last but not least…ON THE FREAKING CARPET.  IN MY HOUSE.  RED HALLOWEEN MAKE-UP.
Oh, it gets better.
I will spare you the details of my reaction, lest one of you call CPS, and keep you distracted by the REST of the event.
Apparently Mercy & her loyal sidekick Max had awoken at TWO-THIRTY in the morning and had spent the 4 hours between that and 6:30 when I awoke to my own personal holocaust doing the following:
Stealing Eva’s iPod and watching BRATZ on Netflix. (Truly, this was worse than the stupid make-up.  Bratz are simply disgusting and make me vomit in my mouth just a little…)
Raiding the pantry for candy, eating it, leaving the wrappers and detritus ALL OVER THE BLOODY HOUSE…
Retrieving a step stool to get Eva’s make-up and nail polish basket, then using ALL of it…
Conducting their own “School Day” with markers, paint, tape and glue…(I will say they actually did their letter activity…)
Pouring, then dumping under their beds, Cheerios.
Lollipop sticks STUCK to my carpet.
And, finally,
WAKING ME UP TO THIS.
Many loads of laundry, showers, carpet cleaning, vacuuming, sweeping, trash collecting, deep breathing exercises later…
I have realized that my child and her sidekick are frighteningly resourceful and bright and I am simply TERRIFED of the teenage years.  And all the years in between…and after!
I told you I couldn’t make this up.

Shall we move on to the following monday?
I was a little frustrated with my day.  Well, let’s be honest here…
My day was in the proverbial crapper.
So, I decide this would be a good time to take apart my nasty barstools to drop the cushions off to be cleaned, as I have reached my tolerance level for the nastiness factor.  (That is an understatement.  My level of Type A is probably in the DSM IV as certified lunacy…)
On my way there, I happen to get caught in the afternoon traffic of the high school letting out.
Take a moment here.  Sit down.  Do NOT eat anything before you read this, as you my spit it out or choke and I have no desire to be responsible for your mess and/or choking…
I’m just tooling along in my SO NOT COOL mom van, watching the traffic as all these kids try to figure out how to merge onto Queens Creek Rd.
Well, one IDIOT in particular decides to careen into the turn lane while HIS STUPID IDIOT PASSENGER is hanging out/sitting on passenger side window goofing off and yelling at the car behind him.
Uh, I think not.
So, what does this SO NOT COOL mom van driver do?
She stops traffic.
And yells at said STUPID IDIOT kid.
And the driver of STUPID IDIOT kid.
And the kid behind him.
What teenager thinks it would be wise to argue with a crazy lady driving a van with FIVE kids who stops traffic to yell at him & his friends?
That one.  This leads me to my favorite part of this story.
When the stupid kid FINALLY shuts up and puts his seat belt on.  After I’ve told him I can wait ALL DAY and that I’m not the least bit concerned about the traffic (including school buses) that is backed up to 24, he put his seat belt on.
And that was really all I wanted.  Because that stupid boy has a mom, one who loves him.  One who doesn’t want to have a state trooper show up to tell her he isn’t coming home.
SO, this crazy mom stopped traffic.  And I’d do it again.

Mondays.
Dear God,
Please remove mondays from your schedule.  They stress me out.
Love,
Crazy Clan Mac Mama