Then, I spent yesterday (literally twelve hours) trying to medicate/sleep off a horrible migraine. This morning, although I felt better, I wasn't happy to be woken up at 5:00am to my wailing son. He's going through some sort of growth-spurt-molar-cutting-crying-bloody-murder-type goodness. Which is fabulous, by the way. And, then Aurelia spilled half a bottle of pink glitter on herself while I was changing her diaper. She had more glitter on her body than a Russian stripper, so I threw her in the shower, which terrified her. I had to stop and breathe with her and reassure her that nothing scary was happening; it was just a shower. She didn't really believe me. Then, the effing dog, who has been doing so well with house-training, piddles not once, not twice, but THRICE times inside, and I step squarely in it. Every. Single. Time. The final puddle sets my brain on fire. The 90-second rule (the one where I recognize that the hormonal reaction to experiencing an emotion is gone from my body in a minute and a half) did not work at all. I locked the dogs in the crate (we were heading out the door anyway), and in my rage, I overshot as I reached for the closed bathroom door, jamming my thumb. It hurt. Temper tantrums do not pay. But all that happened before 9am. Seriously.
So, to make my final point, been a rough year for me so far. But, I have 361 days to improve it.
No comments:
Post a Comment