It's curtains for me

I have a friend who told me I was awesome and something she aspired to, when in the course of texting I told her that I was ironing my curtains.  What she didn't realize was how traumatic the course of events leading up to my having to iron them were.   Here is what happened:  My little cherubs were jumping on the couch, and after I freaked out for the 100th time that week over them hanging onto the curtains for balance (thus bending the rod), they got a spanking each and sent to their room.  Thirty minutes after they were allowed to join life again, they found themselves drawn to the couch against their will.  I know that my angels wouldn't willingly go against my wishes, they were answering the siren like call of the pure bliss of curtain hanging joy.  Well, just when I was to the point of snapping completely, the curtain rod beat me to it.  Off to Wal-Mart we go, since I don't want the neighbors to see my bits parading in jammies after dark.  When we got home I tried to install the new rod, and while I was balanced between the handrail of the treadmill and the back of the couch I realized that the rod was exactly the length of the window, with none to spare.  If I twitched the curtains, the middle fell down and dropped to the floor.  The boys took this as their cue to start dragging the downed curtains all over the house while hitting each other with the jagged pieces of the broken rod (that survival of the fittest saying didn't factor in two and three year olds).  Naturally I needed to wash them before I hung them again, so I threw them in the laundry.  By this time it's dark and I'm in my jammies giving the neighbors a show, so a return trip to Wal-Mart will have to wait until the following day.  Now, I followed the care instructions on the labels to the letter and everything turned out fine, except the black thread.  The black thread in the fabric's design shrunk, so the curtains were puckered and misshapen, a bit like my sanity at this point.  I spent that night pulling them into rectangles again and making plans to spend an entire day starching and ironing to see if they'd be worth saving.  However, the next day was another setback when I found out that the store in town didn't carry a curtain rod that long, and I'd have to wait another day to drive the two and a half hours round trip to get a replacement.  So I ironed like crazy and displayed my wares another night with a headache and a sore jaw from teeth grinding.  Today, I am pleased to announce, we have curtains shaped like curtains and they are hanging on a rod at the window, I am comfortable in my nightwear, and the people that have been camped in our front yard have moved elsewhere.  One more night and I was going to start charging.  So you see, I am not an overachiever or a super organized June Cleaver.   I am just struggling to stay even.  As I typed the last sentence, both boys ran and jumped on the couch and my blood pressure spiked into the danger zone.  When people start wondering why I talk with my teeth clenched and nostrils flared- this is a contributing factor.