Destructive Children

I always want to lose my shit when I walk into someone's house and it is immaculate with white furniture and breakable decor below waist level...AND they have young children. HOW? HOW?! HOW?!?! My home looks more like a frat house or fight club location than it does a clean, safe environment for children (let alone a home that any respectable adult would host other respectable adults in).
There are holes in the walls from jumping and ramming furniture into the drywall. Cabinet faces are missing from the kitchen drawers because the kids hang from them. My son shattered our 50 inch flat screen with a hammer. A god-damn hammer. You may be wondering,"How does that even happen?" Exactly. This deliberate turd went into the storage area of the basement, and grabbed the "kid hammer" [basically a real hammer that is small enough for a child to use (another awesome birthday gift purchased by a great friend)]. Then he walked to the T.V. and "nailed it" with the hammer. The same kid, three years prior, broke my iPod. You're probably thinking, "Oh yeah, that's happened to me before. They drop them on the ground all the time." No. This kid took a bite out of it. A fucking bite!
Side note: Before I could finish the final draft for this piece, my middle child broke the flat screen that replaced the old (broken) flat screen. His weapon of choice was a paint roller extension. He got it from the same "forbidden" area that housed the "kid hammer."
If you ever want to drop by to watch some television, you will have to first find a T.V. that works. Then, you will have to find the remote. When you do, it probably won't work, as it has been disassembled and the batteries are missing. Don't worry, though. The liquor cabinet is always stocked (where the honey badgers can't access it). Help yourself, you're gonna need it if you stay.
The curtain rod is hanging from the bay window, because the kids went through a day-phase of acrobatics. One of the third generation bed sets has broken from too much jumping. For god's sake, they even broke the handle on the toilet. Like, there all of a sudden was no more handle on the toilet. In my outraged mental explosion, I think, "Why the fuck did you have to flush the toilet in the first place?! None of your urine even makes it into the toilet bowl!!!"
The most recent casualty (Yes, even after the second desecrated television) was the couch. My kindergartner took it upon himself to write the entire alphabet in permanent marker on the arm of our denim couch. There are so many questions in that one sentence, I know. Where was the adult supervision? In the next room. Where did he get the marker? He began to use one of the washable markers (from the table that he was sitting at while doing arts and crafts), decided that it wasn't writing precisely enough, so walked into the kitchen, and pulled a permanent sharpie from the junk drawer. Why do you have a denim couch??? Because, I'm not fucking stupid and I no longer spend money on furniture because kids are assholes and are trying to torture me by not allowing me to have nice things; ever. The couch was free.
Being an adult is like playing a game of Would You Rather. Would you rather know a love like no other and care for and raise a beautiful little person...or have nice shit?