Today is not a day where I think, "Hey, look at what a cool chick I am!". Or, "Wow, I'm pretty good at this 'life' thing!". I'm not going to use this day as a prototype for future days. Nope.
Granted- it's only 2:30pm.
I feel like my frustration cup is brimming, overflowing while my patience cup sits dry and forlorn. I'm going to have an ugly-face day.
Most mornings, this one included, my husband wakes up feeling less than stellar. Some new ache or ailment, some barely audible croaking about not getting enough sleep. My morning attitude has taken a turn for the worse, thinking, "Please, just don't say whatever it is", I feel judgmental and irritated. Not my best wife moment. So I get up, change a diaper and shut him into the bedroom while Ro and I scrounge around for breakfast (quesadilla, anyone?). We, inevitably, are too loud in our weensy house and the big man doesn't get the rest he so desperately desires.
Now he's grumpy, his 'tude is transferring onto the toddler and frustration coupled with epic whining are all my ears can hear. The logical next step of course, is that now I'm irritated. My victim-brain says to my situation, "Why do always have to be the adult? Why am I the one who is left to handle it all? Why am I left taking care of two little kids?". Of course none of this is true. Being the victim is so much easier than being responsible.
So off I went. Whisked myself and the child away to a friend's to do crafty things. With my irritation level on high alert, it was a relief to find my friend had actually set up an activity for Ro to do, unlike all the crap I brought witch was not toddler friendly.
Eventually we left, Ro was getting into all the things she was asked not to (and who could blame her, there wasn't much for her to do) and it was nap time.
For 20 minutes, she tossed, turned and practiced gymnastics while laying in bed. I called it quits. I left her there and told her to please go sleep now. The calmness with which she agreed was creepy, and short lived. Dramatic crying and sobbing about how she was sad followed with requests to be done sleeping were not far behind. Throw in a few other annoyances (see: cat while I'm trying to eat) and I'm spent.
The thing is, this isn't unlike most days. I must only have so many that I am able to cruise through before I max out and freak out. I feel like my heart is tight and my head is heavy. I've got the, "I don't give a f*ck" feeling pumping through me.
The feeling sucks.
The kid's asleep now.