Running with scissors...

With four kids, I find myself constantly hootin' and hollerin' about something. "Get that outta yer mouth!", "Stop hitting yer brother with that stick!", "Don't call your brother a cootie infested booger head!", "Did you wash your hands after touching that?", "Can you please stop (pick one...) screaming/ whining/ kicking/ punching/ pinching/ slapping/ throwing stuff/ eating the playdough/ Etc.?", "Get your finger outta there!", "Why are you naked and why do you have your underpants on your head?!", "What's that smell?",  "Stop running in the house!", "Don't touch that!", "Are you serious?!!!" ... The list goes on...
I can tell my kids a hundred times, a hundred different ways to do something or not do something... Do they listen? <Sigh!> ... No. I wonder if they hear me at all... ("Did you hear me?!!? Hello?")
It starts first thing in the morning... They fight, they scream, they run around like rabid and heavily caffeinated  weasels and it's a wonder that the four of them and I survive a day... But then there are moments when they're all sitting down and doing something together or playing together... And I tend to forget everything else. Yes, they try my patience, they drive me nuts sometimes and I am ready to tear my hair out, but at night, when they're all tucked into bed and sleeping, I wonder what I was so fussed about.
I'm sure that tomorrow, it'll start all over again. They'll be fighting, yelling, screaming, doing stuff they ought not to be, neglecting the things they should be doing and running around with scissors... Thank God for Red Bull and a mother's love...
As much as I say to people sometimes when they comment on how cute my children are, "Yeah... You don't live with them!" they're good monkeys and my kids rock out loud... And more than most!