Fear the Dragon

Most of the time I'm a pretty good mom. Some of the time I'm a great mom. There is the single digit occasion I'm the mom I want to be. Lately, however I've been the Dragon mom. Not sure if it's timing (achem), temperature (declared a state of emergency on the 2nd floor of our home 5 minutes ago) or just your general run of the mill fatigue. Whatever the case, I've been so irritable and negative that just last night my husband kicked me out of the door mid-mommy meltdown while I tried to feed Abby her dinner (alphabet soup and buttered toast as if it is January, poor thing). It went something like this:

Me: Abby, I give up. I cannot make you three different dinners tonight. I'm all done. Done. Done. Done.

Abby: Gaeesh! Joooooce. Sadish?

Me: Whatever. I'm over it. I cannot do this short order cook gig morning, noon, and ....

Husband: Just leave. Now.

My Car: Vrooooooooooooooom.


I hate that my poor children are left with this Helamonster by 6pm. I also can't stand that my husband comes home to green gills and a scaly tongue (almost literally). My dog? Well, let's just say I wouldn't be surprised to find a Playboy poster covering a hole in the drywall she's been digging to escape from this nightmare since early June. Ugh and oh. Momma said there'd be days like this. There are days like this, this momma says.

My brain keeps dreaming of the Bahamas. Mind you, I've never been to the Bahamas. I've never even been to California. Lately, I've not been much farther than the baby pool but my mind keeps taking me to this amazing make-believe beach with translucent water lapping at my feet. There are cabanas. There are people wearing white linen. There are painted toes and lots of smiling. There is nobody asking for a thing from me. There is nobody who wants or needs me as soon as I step into the shower. There is only me, a good book, and a comforting ocean between myself and the horrible, nasty, mood-altering Dragon mom. Which is awesome. Cause I hate that B.