I'm hiding right now. Ran away upstairs to the comfy cozies of my computer screen because I'm having one of those days. I told the rest of the family that I'm getting Abby's pajamas together so I have approximately 1 minute and 56 seconds to pull off the fastest, most incoherent string of bitching ever slopped down in print.
So today. Nothing extraordinarily wrong. Just one of those days when you don't particularly feel like being the mom. Or just the parent in general: the one in charge, the one to cling to, the one whose neckline on every shirt looks like it went over an entire linebacker before hitting the shoulders.
I know, I know. I'll miss these days and believe me, I hate myself for even admitting how filled with grump I am.
It's just that today, right diggity now is when my brain and my nerve endings are begging for some space even if that only means a stairwell and a gate.
So, time's up. Thanks for letting me run away to your house for a few minutes. It's nice to have a change of scenery. It did wonders. Think I'm ready to start the night routine (that hopefully will not last as long as this crap day of crapness which means absolutely no way no how will the Backyardigans or Max & Ruby be turned on after bath.)
Oh right, Abby's pajamas. Thanks for the reminder. That could've been a close one.
P.S. Is it wrong that I'm taking great pleasure from listening to the Daddy speak "sternly" through his teeth to the toddler that is acting like he'll explode the instant he isn't screaming, running, jamming his feet into Abby's face or giving his "sharp claws" to his parents? I'm going to do what I can to snap a picture of these obscenely sharp claws. They are Grayson's superpower, his protection from villains. And lately rules. Apparently, they are very sharp and we are to bow to those imaginary razor-like blades or... he'll cut us.
I'm guessing Montessori is out.