"Run for your lives"

so the last few days have been smothered with me crying over things, things that in their respective moments seem huge. minutes later they don't seem so bad, but I cried anyway.

Take for instance my sons (and my daughter) and their endless horrible manners at the table. We have tried a myriad of different things to get them to understand that bad manners at the table are just not except-able: Time-outs, "the look", removal from the table till the rest of the family is finished eating, etc, etc, etc... The frustrating part is that it seems that everysingletime we sit down to eat, the chomping of the food, the farting, the belching start, and today I had enough.

I was standing in the kitchen making pancakes for the oldest after he less than politely asked for seconds. The conversation at the table was not what I want modeled in my home, gross, disgusting comments about butts, and boogers, and poop, and farting, and burping and laughing through the whole thing like they live in a frat house. I had already given the look, asked them to refrain from talking like that at the table, and what do I get: Nothing. They look at me like I'm some ignoramus and I had enough (I already said that, moving on). I grabbed my wooden spoon from its holster. marched to the table. Summoned up the crazy person inside me and yelled in the meanest angriest voice that: I. HAVE. HAD. ENOUGH. (along with some other stuff, no swearing or belittling just the usual, do you understand me, are you listening...blah, blah, blah). I smashed my wooden spoon on the table so hard it split right down the middle (*damn-it! that wasn't supposed to happen*) I returned to my side of the kitchen to internally beat myself up for totally going all crazy on my kids and looking like a complete freak.

It is quiet behind me they are busy staring at the back of my head with their jaws hanging open, when I hear a small voice whisper "Hayden, should we say "Run for your lives" and go in the livingroom?"