no thanks, I don't need any help...I mean it

So, okay, my kids have been on this lets help Mumma kick lately. Which sounds really nice...doesn't it. Kids helping Mom. Mom is happy for the help and kids are all proud and happy. But in reality it's really not working out that way. It all started with tea.

I drink several cups of tea each day. Even late in the evening. The caffiene never keeps me awake. C'mon, I've got three kids and I take care of several others all day long. Nothing could keep me awake. I got Joe a Keurig for Christmas last year and I LOVE that machine. First Teresa was the one who realized she was perfectly capable of operating the Keurig and she began making me cups of tea. Lots of cups of tea. I thought "how sweet!" and drank my cup after cup of tea thinking what a love she is. Well, not to be outdone, Sam and Katie wanted to get in on the tea making lovefest. So they started making me tea too. Apparently, my sitting down is code red for "get Mumma a cup of tea!" because as soon as my butt hits a seat, they race to the kitchen to get to the Keurig first in order to make my cup of tea. Then the two who aren't fast enough start to wail because "I WANTED TO MAKE YOU A CUP OF TEA AND HE/SHE WON'T LET ME!!!" This scenario repeats itself multiple times a day. This sweet thoughtful act of kindness now leaves me with crying kids and me having to defuse yet another situation blown way out of proportion.

Sam seemed unable to get a jump on the tea making, so he decided to branch out. When I'm not drinking tea, I'm drinking water. So Sam smartly decided to quietly start bringing me cups of water everytime one of the girls brought me a cup of tea. Not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, I thanked them all and announced there couldn't be any more thoughtful kids anywhere. However, I wasn't feeling all that grateful despite the kids good intentions. I was sloshy and uncomfortably full and tired of constantly negotiating someone's hurt feelings because they didn't get to help me.

Next they started "helping" me pick up toys but it seemed like whatever one picked up was EXACTLY what one of the others was just about to pick up. More crying and finger pointing and soothing of wounded egos. Same scenario when they decided to "help" me make beds and put away dishes and match up socks. Over and over and over the good intentions melted down into drama and someone always ended up unhappy.

Finally the camels back broke. One morning Teresa got the brilliant idea to help me bring the clean baskets of laundry upstairs. As she marched through the kitchen with the first one I was instructed "DON'T LOOK! I'm giving you a surprise!" This of course, captured the attention of the other two and they jumped up and raced to the basement to lug up laundry baskets too. And once again, the yelling, crying, wailing ensued. Which is why I found myself yelling at the top of my lungs, "FUSSING IS NOT HELPING!!! I am so sick and tired of everyone HELPING me!!!! JUST. STOP. HELPING. ME."

I think I should teach them how to pour me a glass of wine. That might help. Or better yet, mix up a pitcher of sangria.