There are times in Mommyhood that you just have to get away. I wrote all about the struggles of this *raises arms to sides to indicate my whole life* (I know you couldn't see me do that, but I totally did just to prove this point to myself) and how I knew the next time I got overwhelmed I was just going to run away for a while.
And I did. Last night.
It was one of those days where it looked beautiful outside, until I opened the door and it was just a really sunny 20 degree morning. It killed any motivation I had, and that's been the theme of winter since about mid-January. I opted not to go to the gym, and then because of that the TV was on all day, and the kids were obnoxious and whiny because we hadn't left the house. By the time 5 p.m. rolled around I was ready to escape and just needed the Boy to get home.
The "please eat your dinner" fight had happened at that point. The "I need a break" text had been sent. The "I'm just going to fling the fridge open and cry because my toddler life is ruined by your not having anything I want" was in full effect. Here, allow me to show you:
Showing posts with label tantrum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tantrum. Show all posts
Friday, April 18, 2014
Friday, February 7, 2014
It's so Pintrest (un)worthy
Yesterday was the furthest thing from what our society deems "Pintrest Worthy," despite how awesome my ham broccoli braid looked before and after it was baked.
It's like the moment my feet hit the floor the Goob had it out for me. I went to shower and get ready to go to the gym (yeah, I shower prior to getting sweated up) only to come downstairs and smell ... something. Definitely a smell from my primary school years. So familiar I could almost taste it.
Rubber cement. Only not. Vinyl patch glue. More like it.
All over her hands. On the carpet. On the kitchen floor.
I was more mad than anything because I was afraid, at first glance - she had her hands in a prayer pose - that it was super glue and it flashed through my mind that 1) I have no idea the quickest way to the hospital from here and 2) there's no way I would have gotten her safely in the carseat if her hands were glued together.
You've never seen someone have a full on conniption fit until you've witnessed a raving 31-year-old mother dealing with a glue covered child who thinks she's just "washing" her hands with some stinky soap.
It's like the moment my feet hit the floor the Goob had it out for me. I went to shower and get ready to go to the gym (yeah, I shower prior to getting sweated up) only to come downstairs and smell ... something. Definitely a smell from my primary school years. So familiar I could almost taste it.
Rubber cement. Only not. Vinyl patch glue. More like it.
All over her hands. On the carpet. On the kitchen floor.
I was more mad than anything because I was afraid, at first glance - she had her hands in a prayer pose - that it was super glue and it flashed through my mind that 1) I have no idea the quickest way to the hospital from here and 2) there's no way I would have gotten her safely in the carseat if her hands were glued together.
You've never seen someone have a full on conniption fit until you've witnessed a raving 31-year-old mother dealing with a glue covered child who thinks she's just "washing" her hands with some stinky soap.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
A toast to you ... and me
Welcome, 2014. I guarantee I have some good things in store for you this year.
Less nervous breakdown, more deep breaths.
Less self hatred, more devotion - to myself, my children, my husband.
Less grieving things I cannot change, more grasping what the future holds.
2014, you better man up because I'm about to rock your world.
Less nervous breakdown, more deep breaths.
Less self hatred, more devotion - to myself, my children, my husband.
Less grieving things I cannot change, more grasping what the future holds.
2014, you better man up because I'm about to rock your world.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Worth the break
Ten weeks away. This is like starting over.
And man, have I been busy not folding laundry while stepping away from my Internet addiction. I have been busy doing other things though, you know, because I have two kids both going through their own version of the Terrible Two's. Josie's trying to catch up on all the temper tantrums she didn't throw over the last year and Charlotte is keeping pace in order to be done with this nonsense by the time she actually reaches 2.
I can't complain much because compared to other kids, mine are relatively low-key and easily calmed. Like last night. We got ready to sit down for dinner and, as is my norm, I refilled the girl's milk cups. Josie insisted she didn't want more, so I just put a splash in to make sure she'd have enough for dinner. Oh the tears! You'd think I tore the head off her favorite stuffed animal and laughed about it in front of her. The fight was on, and I really didn't have much fight left in me (and what parent does at 6:30 p.m.). She was angry enough about it she refused to eat. She didn't want any macaroni salad, not even the eggs — which, as everyone knows, is every child's favorite part of any cold salad.
Superhero Mom took over, swooped down and guzzled that splash of milk and all was forgiven in the land of Temper Tantrumville. Seriously. I drank the little bit of extra I gave her and she was happier than a dog with a new bone, ate her dinner and went on for a fairly calm night. The whole incident lasted maybe three minutes.
Even the Boy shook his head, amazed that the only thing she wanted was no extra milk. I don't know where she gets this strong willed thing from ... nope, not a clue.
And man, have I been busy not folding laundry while stepping away from my Internet addiction. I have been busy doing other things though, you know, because I have two kids both going through their own version of the Terrible Two's. Josie's trying to catch up on all the temper tantrums she didn't throw over the last year and Charlotte is keeping pace in order to be done with this nonsense by the time she actually reaches 2.
I can't complain much because compared to other kids, mine are relatively low-key and easily calmed. Like last night. We got ready to sit down for dinner and, as is my norm, I refilled the girl's milk cups. Josie insisted she didn't want more, so I just put a splash in to make sure she'd have enough for dinner. Oh the tears! You'd think I tore the head off her favorite stuffed animal and laughed about it in front of her. The fight was on, and I really didn't have much fight left in me (and what parent does at 6:30 p.m.). She was angry enough about it she refused to eat. She didn't want any macaroni salad, not even the eggs — which, as everyone knows, is every child's favorite part of any cold salad.
Superhero Mom took over, swooped down and guzzled that splash of milk and all was forgiven in the land of Temper Tantrumville. Seriously. I drank the little bit of extra I gave her and she was happier than a dog with a new bone, ate her dinner and went on for a fairly calm night. The whole incident lasted maybe three minutes.
Even the Boy shook his head, amazed that the only thing she wanted was no extra milk. I don't know where she gets this strong willed thing from ... nope, not a clue.
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