Can One Get Calgon in France?

It's only about 11am here and I think I've already punished the tribe through till school starts next week.

They've bickered, fought, talked back, thrown things, and cried since waking up at 8am. All three of them seem on a mission to see which one will succeed in getting mommy to jump out the kitchen window.

I love them. I love them. I know they are the joy and light of my life. I know I made them with the help of my fabulous Hubster, who, the lucky bastard, is safe at work.

I just want them to go back to school so I can drink my coffee before it gets cold, actually keep a room clean, and take a shower. Simple things, eh?

I can't imagine being one of those mothers who have had loads of children. Good Catholic mothers who somehow birthed, raised, and set free 12 or 14. I'm struggling with 4.

I need to clone myself. This way there is one of me for each of them and then Hubster and the real me can head out for a few weeks were all we do is sit on a beach, drink fruity cocktails and watch Typhon try out a surfboard while Anouk and Abaka look for small creatures they can kill. Bliss.