The kids were total pains to get out of bed for church and Sunday school...argued, whines, just generally difficult.
Got into an argument with Vic before we left for church...he was an ass, I was an ass, it was both our faults but it left me in a foul mood.
Marty, who is usually the good one in church, spent all of church whining about how tired he was and couldn't we go home. He wanted to know what he was suppose to do if he fell asleep in church and he thought I was joking when I said try not to snore.
Joey spent all of church whining about being hungry and cold (it was NOT cold in church).
Gabe of course picked up on his brothers' craptastic behavior and started showing his ass in church...purposely being randomly loud, sprawling across the floor.
Marty had a cataclysmic, near apocalyptic teenage meltdown when we were eating lunch...touched off by (of all things) me telling him hot dogs were only finger food when they were in buns or on bread. It was ugly...and he is going to bed by 9 all week long.
After lunch and after Marty's meltdown, Joey had to clean his room and Marty was suppose to help me bathe the dogs. He spent the whole time we were bathing the dogs complaining about getting wet (well DUH) and yelling at Gabe because Gabe thought the whole scenario was hysterical. I think I told Marty to "let me handle Gabe because you are NOT the parent" about 20 times while we were bathing the dogs.
After we were done and Marty had gone inside, I asked Gabe (who was soaked) to open the sliding door a little and yell for his dad to get towels. Marty decided to be a mini-parent again and yelled at Gabe to close the door and not let Jack in and slammed the door. Of course, Gabe's fingers got closed in the sliding door. Marty didn't seem to grasp that I wasn't pissed about Gabe getting hurt...that was an accident...but I was pissed that his inability to let me be the parent had caused Gabe to get hurt.
Then, the day was capped off by Gabe puking all over the rug and my purse because he would not go into the bathroom when he started gagging (he swallowed wrong and it triggered ye old gag reflex which led to dinner and strawberry milk decorating my floor).
Between Thursday and Sunday, last week sucked. If this week shows any signs of repeating, I think I'm going to run away to outer Mongolia.