We are two weeks into summer vacation and after much scientific research I've made a startling discovery. I am exhausted and my children are not.

It was one thing to run a tight ship when I was handing them over to someone else for several hours every day. But now that we are home together all day every day, Momma's not holding up so well.

In summers past, I could be lazy and ignore bad behavior for a few minutes if it meant I could finish cooking a meal or fold another load of laundry. I would just put on my surprise face as I walked into their bedroom and pretend I had no idea they were doing toy inventory and had dumped out everything they owned into the middle of the floor.

This summer, they are older, wiser and can smell any sign of weakness. I can no longer afford to feign ignorance, because they interpret it as sheer stupidity. As soon as they think they've broken me for the day, they begin to disobey. They will sneak into my bathroom to play with my makeup, or pull a chair into the pantry to get junk food off of one of the top shelves.

I am the parent and I must win, which means if they disobey me 499 times in one day, I must correct them 500 times. Although I don't have the time, energy or mental capacity to keep score, I'd say that's a pretty accurate estimate.

Discipline is just so time consuming. My children are pretty high-spirited, emotional, and stubborn, for which I am very thankful. I was the same way as a child and while I almost drove my mother straight into an asylum, my stubborn attitude served me well later in life. I don't do "no" very well, and unfortunately neither do my children.

I look forward to the success their "never say never" attitudes will bring them later in life, but for now, we need to learn how to turn it off. Dinner is just one example of the daily battles I must wage and win with my oldest daughter, Aubrey.

As I was cooking a few weeks ago, she wandered in and asked, "What's for dinner?"

"Does it matter?" I asked her. "You are going to cry unless I say Oreos. We are having tacos." Cue screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth. "I hate tacos! I only like burritos! You make them too spizy!" Aubrey wailed.

For the next half hour, the timer would go off signaling her release from time out and I would walk into her room to see if she was ready to come out and act like a human instead of a feral cat - she wasn't.

After 30 fun filled minutes, it seemed she was ready to communicate again.

"Honey, are you ready to stop crying and act like a big girl now?" I asked.

"Momma, do you know what I feel like?" Aubrey asked me.

"What?"

"I feel like a flower you picked out of the dirt and pulled all my petals off."

Oh the drama, the descriptiveness, the sheer imagination!

"If you were a flower and I picked you out of the dirt, I would never pull off your petals. I would put you in my fanciest vase on the kitchen table so everyone could see you."

"You would?" She sniffled.

I nodded and finally pulled her out of the bed and held her hand as we walked to the kitchen to her now cold taco. I sat beside her at the bar in our kitchen as she took a small bite and looked at me with a smile, tears still clinging to her eyelashes.

"Momma, this is good. I like it."

My head dropped to the counter in exhaustion as I took a brief glance at my mental scoreboard.

Mommy-1 Kids-0. I only have to win about a million more of these and they'll leave me alone, right?

(Robin O'Bryant is a former Mount Pleasant resident and mother of three. Read her blog online at www.robinschicks.com or e-mail her, zebandrobin@hotmail.com.)