That's right. I threw a tantrum in front of the kids lastnight over having nowhere to sit. I had made Ryan a bottle and sat down in the chair with her. Brendan decided he was suddenly in charge of where I sit while I feed her, so he started screaming. "Move! You can't sit there! That's MY chair! That's MY CHAIR Mama! Move Mama! THAT'S MY CHAIR!" Poor Ryan could barely finish her bottle with all the yelling, so I got up to move. That's when I lost it. He's still screaming, I'm looking around for somewhere to sit with the baby, and there's nothing. Nowhere to sit. The couch was covered in toys. The other chair was covered in toys. The chair I'd been sitting in was covered in toys, as I could feel the sting of matchbox car that had dug right into my right ass cheek.
"AND JUST WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SIT? THIS PLACE IS A DISASTER AREA!" I sat Ryan down on the floor, picked up the toy baskets that are SUPPOSED to hold all of the toys, and started chucking cars and trains in like crazy, all the while muttering not-so-kind words for bossy toddler.
10 minutes later the room is completely cleaned up and I'm covered in sweat. Kids are both staring at me like I've just grown 6 heads. "Thank you for cleaning up, Mama. Is it time for bed now?"
I'm ashamed to ask if I should do that more often??