MAAAAAHHHHHHHM!

Ok, I KNOW I am not alone in this aggravating situation. But how much more can I really take? What mother hasn't endured that nerve grating sensation as her offspring let out a call worse than that of the wild, beckoning, demanding her attention. For fear that legs have been crushed under falling dressers, or heads have been disconnected from the major portion of the body, we rush across the house - pantyhose half hiked up or dizzy from the exhertion lifting a 9month pregnant body off the couch in such a frenzie - we can't help it, it's inborn, a natural (although vexatious) instinct. And when we arrive in record breaking time to save our dearly beloved children from unimaginable horrors, we are greeted by an insulting, galling request to hand a child the book lying next to them, but a fingertip out of reach. Sometimes the demand proves a bit more urgent - - perhaps they need help turning the volume up on the t.v, or some guidance on which pair of underwear should be worn with a particular outfit (the last example may not apply to many mothers, but alas I am Alaina's mommy and this is a critical component of fashion sense in her book).
Maaaaaammm! Oh release me.
So then I attempt to drown out the interminable bellowing, but it just gets louder. Is it really possible? I have often been reminded nothing is impossible. Apparently my daughter is converted to this belief! The louder, the longer, surely the quicker I will appear to create a world of ease and leisure for her. All the while I desperately fight the urge to let my head spin on an axis of uncomprehensible speed, the fury building within. (Now I am fully aware that I am most likely only proving my lack of composure, patience and all things divine in motherhood, more than illustrating my point that children can be so demanding sometimes. But I am totally fine with this less than pleasant revelation about my damaged personality and character.)
My husband has this built in 'mute' button that he turns on almost as soon as he enters the house. I don't get how that passed the list of acceptable manuevers for him, but didn't make it onto the list of "How to Survive Things all Motherhood". So even when he attempts to set an example for me on how to ignore the pestering vociferating originating from my dainty damsel in 'distress', it just bugs me even more. Instead of standing in wonder at his patience, I stand in ready pose to pounce on the helpless male of the herd - survival requires the contribution of all the members - and at times like these I rely on him to quiet the noise that threatens to unleash the horrible beast within - which we have already establised is 'your's truly'.
Eventually I succumb. I bow my head in defeat, walk sullenly - sometimes stomping - away from my counterpart who is somehow impervious to the hollering from the hall, and go to inquire after the needs of my darling, although exacting daughter.
And as I ponder upon my 'predicament', I realize my Father in Heaven probably feels the exact same way, without all the less-than-divine temper tantrums, and sub-heavenly head spinning. How many times have I cried out, bellowed, even screamed on occasion, for help, for comfort, for answers, that weren't more than a fingertip, or less, away from my grasp. If only I would excercise a smidgen of self mastery, or initiative. So perhaps that in itself is the answer to the "Maaaaahhhm" mayhem of my life.
Your thoughts?