It is so hot my skin is melting off my body

I know that I said I would write about the remainder of our trip to Idaho ... and I will.
But not today.
Today it is too damn hot, and I am too damn mad.
Oh and I have decided that I hate being a single parent.
So. Damn. Much.
Even more so in the summer.
I feel as if I listen to bickering, tattling, whining, and crying 23 hours of the day.
In the blistering, wretched heat.
I literally come unglued in response to every incident involving people ... my kids in particular.
I just want to run away or strangle someone.
That someone being myself so I don't have to listen to one more noise.
However, moral and societal rules dictate that this would be an inappropriate reaction.
But I am burnt out at the beginning of every day.
My reserves have been tapped dry.
And every time I explode, I am immediately wracked with guilt.
Guilt for losing my cool.
Guilt for not being a happier, more patient mother.
Guilt for not treasuring the little moments, the ones that everyone insists I will miss once they are grown.
Guilt for wishing that I could disappear someplace where people sleep and eat and pee all alone.
Guilt for wishing all day that it were bedtime so that I could put my head down on the table and close my eyes.
Guilt because my kids have been through so much and the last thing they deserve is a disengaged, grumpy parent.
I am the only one that they have and I am doing a lousy job.
Summer has been harder in a way because I have to be problem-solving, cooking, cleaning up after, entertaining, and disciplining kids all day with no one to offer relief when I have reached my limit.
My dad and Heather are extremely helpful but they have their own activities and projects to attend to, and it really isn't their responsibility to parent my kids for me.
I cried tonight.
Not because I miss Scott, or because I heard the song America the Beautiful (because, yes, I cry every time I hear that song. I am very patriotic.) but because I am tired.
Tired of putting Micah back in bed for the umpteenth time and then listening to him sob for being abandoned in his room.
Tired of my life being this way.
So hard, and lonely, and anxiety-ridden.
I am tired of wanting to be happy and even believing I am occasionally, only to remember how different I wish things were.
I wish I were in love.
I wish I had a spouse.
I wish I had my own home.
I wish I could enjoy the little moments we talked about earlier.
And I wish my boobs would perk up a bit.
I need to go to bed.

p.s Sorry for the rant.
p.p.s Although I toned it down. And omitted several more swear words.
p.p.s.s And colorful gestures