Everything from breaking scissors (never knew I had it in me) to cutting my hands to knocking the one thing over after the other.
I was Not Nice.
Son#1 had verbal diarrhea, Son#2 ran around screaming Stupid Mommy everytime I looked in his direction, and Son#3 felt, well, like me.
Lots of crying.
Mmmmmm.
And I know why I was Not Nice: Sometimes you're just done with Caring.
Yesterday, I didn't feel like remembering to buy milk or is there bread in the house, what will we have for dinner or are there enough nappies, and I certainly didn't care to change any.
Eventually I blamed the husband for everything as it didn't seem reasonable to blame the kids or myself.
That didn't pan out so well.
(Note to future self: Try different approach)
Had to say sorry.
You know.
Two syllables.
As in [sɒrɪ].
I went to bed thinking that at least tomorrow, this awful day will be over and done with, which made me feel better.
And I bought myself sunflowers.
From a farmer.
With a big dog.
.
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