Survivors

You know those days when you suppose you are the worst parent in the world because you feel like you've been hit by a Mack truck and you are desperate for it to be your child's bedtime so that you can just lay on the couch and watch terrible movies and feel sorry for yourself?  Mmm hmm.  That would be yesterday.  

Luckily,  my child has fantastic intuition and decided he was in the mood to play sweetly by himself and wasn't trying to put screwdrivers in light sockets or climb on top of the refrigerator or drop a toaster in the bathtub or ride his big wheel into traffic. He totally sensed that I did not have the energy to chase him around and keep him alive.  So, he played barnyard and ate his dinner and kept the bed time tantrums to a minimum.

This morning he demanded to snuggle me before he got dressed and informed me that I was handsome.  Thank you, little prince of a child, for easing some of that ever-present guilt by loving me despite the fact that I was not able to be super mommy (or even mediocre mommy) yesterday because if you had been in one of your moods and bitten me or dropped "f" bombs for twenty minutes or refused to be in or out of the bathtub at the same time or threw yourself in the floor demanding Fruit Loops or beaten me to a bloody pulp while I tried to put your pajamas on, we might not have made it through the evening.

I channel days like the last two when you're in one of your moods and acting like a heathen and testing my patience and making my eye twitch with stress so that I remain calm enough not jump out the window.  So, thank you for having them.

I think we're going to survive each other yet, son.