Not sure when it happened but I'm a real buzzkill lately. Seems like the old me who would sing and dance on paper plates in the kitchen has forgotten all the words to all the songs. Seems like the old me who would make milk angels on the floor instead of crucifying the one who spilled it there in the first place has hung up her wings. Seems like I'm not me anymore.
I realize we're going through a stressful time. I know I shouldn't expect raising kids to be fun or easy or light-hearted but I cannot accept such chronic grouchiness from myself. How can I expect anyone around me to be happy when I'm such a drag?
"Don't wipe your mouth on your shirt."
"Don't touch anything with those hands."
"Are you trying to make me mad?"
"I will when I'm done with these dishes."
"I can't right now, I'm cleaning up yet another mess."
"I'm too tired."
"Please stop talking."
"Get off that."
"I said, No."
"Get over here.""
"Get over here NOW."
"I'm so tired."
"I need a minute."
"I don't care if you're not hungry."
"Use your fork."
"I am a wasteland."
Whoever that person is? She should hire a babysitter and get the balls out of dodge for a while. Like somewhere close by with rainbows, glitter, and unicorns. Or long pyramids of Toblerones and fresh linen. That would probably make for much more happy. Whichever the case, something's gotta give and I'll be really disappointed if that something turns out to be me.