Otterpop? OR World peace in popsicle form?

Children!  Children... Children??? I love my boys, they mean the world to me! They fill my world with happiness and surprises! I have two boys and they are just that, BOYS, through and through. They love to wrestle, fight and run at full speed and crash into each other. Everything can be modified into a gun or sword and everything is subject to attack. Often times, in the middle of the chaos I find myself huddled in the corner, hoping this is just a phase. At two and five, it's almost as if they've been attending  "How to be a boy" classes each night since birth. Every morning they wake up and bounce out of bed, with scowls on their faces and finger guns loaded. This is my life. Pink dresses, big hair bows... that was the life for which I had prepared. I know two things about being a boy, they pee standing up and are crazy...and it took me 5 years to get that far. We call the little one Lou, after Lou Ferrigno...you know, the Incredible Hulk. Why? Because, you wont like him when he's angry! Sure he's cute, polite even. Unless YOU wanna be in charge. The kids a whiz...knows what he wants, always has. Just so happens that sometimes he wants to pull the cat by the tail and run with scissors. The big one, is your average 5 going on 14 year old. After 5 years of a semi-compliant nature, he has determined that despite our many threats and counting, he actually DOESN'T have to do as we say...because despite a deep desire, I will not ACTUALLY leave the house without him OR kick his butt all the way to the moon... Little organization called CPS cracks down hard if you do any such things. Also it has come to the big ones attention that the little one, with his small fingers and cute smile, can easily maneuver in and out of tough situations. Although I find it pretty hard to believe the barely two year old decided, out of the blue, that he wanted to get his brothers confiscated toy off the top of the fridge when I wasn't looking (the first time I wasn't looking ALL DAY!) ...yes, very peculiar. These little battle bots have been genetically engineered, so it seems, with the objective to destroy each other. They play rough, and someone ALWAYS gets hurt. With this intense "bonding" going on all the time, hard feeling fly around like kites, rushing this way and that. After a particularly bad bout of brotherly love, only one thing can cure bruised feelings and bumped heads...OTTERPOPS!!!!!! So... Israel.   Palestine.   ...what color do you want?

A list of reasons why you didn't do it...that you forgot to write.

The role of father/husband can be complicated...if you're a man. For me, it's more straight forward than that. The father/husband in my life is good man, he strives to care for his family and keep us together forever. I ask little of him, in the way of cleaning... merely take out the garbage/recycling and prevent messes. Not a long list by any standards and not a complicated one either. First, garbage... I'd say we average one bag every 2-3 days. When the bag is 3/4 full I send out a courtesy reminder that SOON the garbage will need to leave the house and regroup with the other refuge. When the bag is full, I ask that it be removed promptly so I can re-bag the trashcan. There then comes a need to put MORE trash in the garbage SO I remove the bag and set it suspiciously close the where the father/husband likes to spend his time. I remind before school and before bed to take the garbage out. (I could do it, and he COULD grow a pair of breast if he wanted.) Anyways...Day two...garbage NOT out. Second garbage 3/4 full, courtesy reminder goes out. NAG? Oh really?!? OK. So I remind him AGAIN to take out garbage #1 and #2 ...and by now the recycling has become a leaning tower of card board...dangerously touchy, falling on the heads of passerby's and beckoning the cat to scale it. It never fails that father/husband will laze around, jump in the shower at the last minute and not be able to find his sock/shoe/belt/etc/etc/etc...and then NOT have time to grab the garbage...Even though garbage is THE FAST FOOD of household chores...fast and ready to go. Obviously, I need the garbage taken out and more obviously he has needs (manly needs). So I go on strike AND the garbage goes out. Secondly, messes. Throughout the day, I pick up here, tidy up there and keep the house from crashing in on itself. Believe it OR NOT, sometimes I DO need a break (holy crap...she's human!!) so I empty my purse of diaper, wipes, toys, cups, and all the other heavy mommy crap and run toward the exit!!!!!! Although I left the house quickly, I know it was clean (not visiting relatives clean, but clean enough!)...I know that there was not a foot of cereal covering the floor, yes, I know that when I left the house, the couch WAS in the living room AND the cat DID have hair. So...how did it get this way? IDK...What do you mean... YOU       DON'T     KNOW? ...back on strike.