It's my pity party and I'll cry if I want to

I didn't cry when I came out of the bathroom and found Corbin's formula dumped on the counter. 

I didn't cry when minutes later Emme squeezed and shook her blue Tummy Yummy into the carpet in her room. She even smooshed it in real good with her feet and did a demonstration of her naughty actions. 

I didn't cry when she emptied her sock drawer and hung every single one up on a hanger.  That was actually pretty funny and made it easy to find matching socks this morning. 

I didn't cry after finding spilled milk from a sippy cup hidden under a blanket and once again smooshed into the carpet. 

I didn't cry after I noticed writing on Corbin's toy blocks. 

I didn't cry when I had to drag two screaming kids to the car in front of all of Wheeler Farm after Emme punched Corbin in the face and I told her she couldn't have a cookie anymore. 

I didn't show that my feelings were hurt after hearing an almost four year old call me stupid over and over and over and then wishing death upon me from a snow monster.  

I didn't cry when a laundry basket was thrown at me. 

 

I didn't even cry after both of my children refused to nap. 

So what made me have a mini breakdown today....?

When I noticed this same child writing with a pen all over my ottoman and then saw she stabbed holes in it for good measure. 

Apparently... ruining furniture is my breaking point...to which I will sob and sob while said child is locked in her room and her brother jabbers behind me. 

Aftershocks like spraying hairspray all over the walls and smearing lotion into the carpet may make me fight back tears, but I refuse to cry. Especially, when I get comments like, "show me how I made you cry, mom."

I think it's safe to say I'm having issues now that Corbin is all over the place and I can't keep my eyes on Emme at all times.  

Please send Diet Coke.