White Flag

I surrender. I give up. I am waving the white flag.

You win Legos. You may have full run of my house. You may clutter my tables and bruise the bottom of my feet. Go right ahead, induce epic meltdowns in my offspring, who throw tantrums of frustration when unable to follow your PhD level instructions for assembly.

Congratulations laundry! You are victorious. Your piles grow ever larger, I am nothing against your mighty power of renewal. With one load completed, four more are produced. I cannot keep up. You have reduced me to a puddle of bleachy tears.

Oh dear dishes you are champion. Not only do you overflow my sink and dishwasher reproducing at a rapid pace, but I find your dirty sour-milk-crusted cups in every corner of my polluted home. Sticky silver-wear hides under the table and beneath the baker's rack. I am powerless to stop you. You are master.

Dinner time, I surrender to thee. I have come to terms with the fact that no matter what I prepare, be it hot dogs, frito-pie, or meals with kid-friendly names like "rainbow pasta" or "sunshine carrots" I cannot win. Complaints will be hurled at me at a frenetic pace. Food will be discarded, left on their plates, only to be shoved in Tupperware, and later thrown away. Dinner, perhaps we should simply part ways, and finally ignore one another.

Clutter you have successfully conquered me. You have taken over the closets, the drawers and are threatening to plant your flag in every room of the house. I gave it a good fight. I have bought bins, and giant plastic boxes in an attempt to contain you, but you are all-powerful and am no longer able to fight this battle. Spill away, across the living room floor, under the beds, over the kitchen counters. You. Are. Unstoppable.

I GIVE UP!!!