I love our kids. I love them in a way I never knew was possible until I had them in my arms for the, well, like the tenth time. The first few times I was pretty exhausted and a little delirious. But since then it has been total and unconditional love - not to the "moon and back" because that line has been pretty well over done, but in Sawyer's words and the ultimate compliment, "as much as garbage trucks!" I love them. But sometimes, sometimes...I don't like them.
Today is one of those days. Oh, they are hard today.
We've all been there. I hope. They woke up looking for a fight, and despite my best intentions I gave them exactly what they were looking for. They are mouthy to me and ornery to each other. Every activity they choose is either dangerous or destructive and everything is loud. The fighting is loud. The whining is loud. The play is loud. And I'm loud right along side them. In my head, I am a gentle guide who quietly corrects them and helps them see the error of their ways. In reality I'm a screeching yelling hot mess of a mom. They look at me funny now. Just wait until they are old enough to realize I don't have my crap together even a little bit. I should have majored in child psychology instead of exercise science. It would have benefited me a boat load more than knowing anything about the xiphoid process or iliac crest. Ha!
When they wake up from mandatory nap time, we are making cookies.
Everything looks better with chocolate.
Today is one of those days. Oh, they are hard today.
We've all been there. I hope. They woke up looking for a fight, and despite my best intentions I gave them exactly what they were looking for. They are mouthy to me and ornery to each other. Every activity they choose is either dangerous or destructive and everything is loud. The fighting is loud. The whining is loud. The play is loud. And I'm loud right along side them. In my head, I am a gentle guide who quietly corrects them and helps them see the error of their ways. In reality I'm a screeching yelling hot mess of a mom. They look at me funny now. Just wait until they are old enough to realize I don't have my crap together even a little bit. I should have majored in child psychology instead of exercise science. It would have benefited me a boat load more than knowing anything about the xiphoid process or iliac crest. Ha!
When they wake up from mandatory nap time, we are making cookies.
Everything looks better with chocolate.
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