Why Is Everybody Always Picking On Me???

It seems that my high school bully has reincarnated herself in the form of three monsters named, Owen, Blake and Madison. Seriously, you don't believe me? Honestly, it's actually fairly genius. In fact, I could make a fortune if I could market this strategy to high school bullies everywhere. Or better yet, maybe I was a bully to someone else and this is my payback. Regardless, I have a whole gang of bullies living under my roof and I have become their target.

What? You can't see how such sweet and innocent children can torture me so? Let's start with a for instance. Earlier this morning, I'm sitting in my reclining chair attempting to read my Bible when Blake comes pummeling towards me, throws himself into my lap and tosses my Bible onto the floor. Moments later, I hear Madison screeching from inside the confines of her lair. I carefully remove my first leech and head into her room with a smile plastered on my face. As soon as I open the door, I'm greeted with another ear piercing screech and a stuffed animal flying towards my face. At this point, I realize I am under attack. I duck and roll towards the crib and spring up. I grab the bully baby, sweep her into my arms, and head towards the kitchen. Bullies are always a bit nicer when they've had a bite to eat.

As I round the corner, I find Thing 1 and Thing 2 hovering over a box of donut holes. When they see me, their eyes widen like deer caught in headlights, mouths lined in white powder. Owen smiles coyly. "Hi Mommy," he mutters while drooling crumbs onto the floor. A quick "mom" look from me and the two scatter, fleeing to the table, where Owen asks, "Mommy, may I can I have a donut please?" There I stand surrounded and completely speechless.

I little while later, I ask Owen to get dressed and Blake to pick up the toys he'd just dumped all over the floor. Guess how long it took them to accomplish said tasks? I'll let you know when they finish.

Maybe I'm over exaggerating a bit, and maybe the events of this morning weren't as extreme a picture as I've painted. Maybe my kids are just kids and I'm border lining on conspiracy theorist, but sometimes I swear it's a calculated take down of the "Mommy."

Could there be some sort of underground school where children go and learn just what buttons to push? I'm quite positive there is and that it is taught my high school bullies.

Disclaimer: I, in no way, feel that my children are in fact monsters. I love them dearly.