Oh, come on.

I want to go into hiding. Just for a day or two. A sabbatical in search of my groove perhaps? The heart-shaped box of chocolates is emptied so I can no longer feed my emotions, while therapeutic exercise, laughter, and writing rants are just not quite making with the happy. Case in point: yesterday I walked five miles, and today 4.5 so far. (Not meandering, but with some serious go-go. This adds to my theory that endorphins are mythic.) I married for funny, but even Mr. Chuckles making with the ha-ha's has yet to bring about the uplifted countenance that means Mama (and therefore everyone else) is cheery again. As for the ranting, the posts of yore speak for themselves.
Instead of the proposed flight, this afternoon will see the continued enforcement of unwelcome, but necessary consequences for the teen and the tween. While Little Bit enjoys her dance class, the tween and I will be having a needed chat about how much it is appreciated that she trusts Mom and Dad with the details of her life and relationships. And that we have responsibility to protect her from unsafe situations (Yes, there was more than what was published.) even if her friends are not subject to the same rules and expectations. Because we love her too much to be the popular, fun parents. This sort of conversation usually goes well with her. At the same time, the teen will be forfeiting his after school activities because he opted out on some school work and chose not to accept responsibility or be fully honest.

Today I am tired. But I am still a parent despite the strong urge to stop answering the "Mom, Mom" chorus temporarily. I have to go write "I will not frustrate my children." a hundred times now.