Mom's don't wrestle

...and this is why. It would be non-stop wrestle mania 24-7. These kids don't have an off button. If I was fair game I would live in constant booty flex mode. Standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and all of a sudden...BAM...TC comes at me full fisted right in the ribs. I'm bending over to pick up miniature socks from under the bed...POW...Emma pile drives me to the ground. I'm sitting in the floor folding clothes...WOOF...Tate clobbers me with the couch pillow. Oh no, I'm no dummy. It's all or nothing and I choose to abstain. Besides someone always cries before it's all over and I would be too tempted to go straight to the crying part so that it could be over faster...sheesh...who needs it...I'll leave all the bloody noses and screaming kids to Daddy...he's like Kung Fu Panda...the kids just seem to bounce right off of him no matter how fast they run, how high they jump, or how hard they hit.