I didn't quit my mom job.
Please, if you’re just visiting this blog, or you’re just a super judgmental, critical person and think I’m complaining about my kids, get a grip. It’s been a long day. And I’m at my limit. This is my rather weak and new attempt at finding humor in the tough stuff. And I’m trying to find the funny in moments that I know don’t last forever.
I’m not superstitious, but… after the day I had… I’m beginning to wonder if there’s merit to the whole Friday the 13th bugaboo.
It started divine enough.
My husband left early (that’s not why it was nice. shut up. I like him. I do.) and I woke before big baby and little baby got up. So I did what any normal stay-at-home mom who often feels isolated from the living world does: I grabbed my phone and started reading my new favorite blog.
About 15 minutes into reading stick-figured illustrated stories that could have very much depicted any day in my house, I heard him. The sweet little boy who
by lunch I wanted to sell on Craigslist I love so much.
Judging the cuddle time he spent with me, waking up on the couch, I thought we were in for a wonderful day.
When will I learn that two-year-olds can’t be trusted?
Maybe something turned in the all fruit I spread on his toast. It most certainly could not have been the eggs he refused. Wouldn’t take a bite yet screamed when I transferred the cold goods to his sister’s tray. “Ok! Ok!” Giving them back in hopes he’d at least consume a little protein. Nope. Wasn’t having it. Just didn’t want the little baby to get them. I moved them back to hers, half not wanting to be wasteful, half wanting him to want them back. Mom of the Year right here.( I think the girl ate three eggs for breakfast and then continued looking for MORE FOOD.)
Tantrum to “get down now!” promptly ensued. We were in for a long day. And it was only 7:30.
Even the little lady grew discontent and wanted out of
confinement her high chair
and tossed herself to the ground. And for the life of me, I don’t know why.
I have video of the big baby throwing himself on the ground, but I’m sparing him. Three different meltdowns.
If it were me down there wailing on the floor, I’d be upset with my mom behind the camera posting my private meltdown for the world to see.
Since text only stories are lame, I’ll set aside my pride in producing quality work and opt for these terribly shot, deplorably lit pictures. Please do accept my sincerest of apologies for the poor quality. I lost all drive to do anything well today.
I let the house go.
Parenting like I care is sucking the life force out of me.
I gave up on playing outside when the toddler decided that tree bark pieces were cookies. And the baby repeatedly snuck who knows what kind of berries into her mouth. I just wanted to sit. Was that too much to ask?
Yes, yes it was.
It just got worse when we went back in. I don’t know why. This wasn’t like most days when a little redirection would set all of us straight.
By 9:00, I gave up on being an involved parent and ordered him to watch TV.
Painful. Agony. Right?
I can’t explain what happened between the early morning sweet cuddle and immediate nuclear meltdown after breakfast because I don’t know. But something went haywire.
Even naps were a nightmare. <— that’s funny. I tried driving for an hour because I was so frustrated I lost track of how I do things on a regular day. The sweet boy fell asleep. The little lady did not. So, after the toddler transfer from car to bed, I let her play on the floor, where we both ended up falling asleep.
More craziness after naptime and I have NO idea how long they even lasted. It felt like five minutes.
I ended the day with both of them eating cereal by 4PM… planted in front of the television again while I ate chocolate cake on the floor as I hid behind the kitchen counter. I may or may not have been crying.