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It’s Been A Couple of Those Days

Some kind of creature has infested my child and turned her into an emotional, screaming, impossible-to-make-happy tyrant! I LOVE this child with all of my heart, but I’m one whiney “No” away from putting her in the pack and play and leaving her to fend for herself!

Not really, so don’t call DSS.

Sometimes she is so sweet that I feel that motherly my-child-is-an-angel-that-does-no-wrong feeling sweep over me! And then sometimes, I want to call my lawyer and a detective to investigate whether or not my child was swapped with some wacka doodle’s kid at the hospital!

At this point in time, snacks can literally be the downfall of our day. I don’t know what it is. I can put whatever snack she wants on the table and the sight of the snack she asked for somehow brings about a complete mental breakdown. Because apparently in that whole minute that it took me to get the snack and walk back to the table, she has changed her mind and I am supposed to know that!

And God forbid you take her into a store right now! Oh, heaven be with us! “Mama” no, “Daddy” no, “Mama”, {crying loudly and echoing throughout the store} “Buggy” no, “Mama”…. AHHHHHH! We look like a three-ring circus! And I can see all of the righteous people looking at us and thinking to themselves, “I’d give that brat something to cry about!”. Yeah, no. Raise your own little creatures and you won’t have enough time to be looking at mine. I’m not making her do this!

Anyway, my living room has been covered in cheese puffs, mini wheats, and toys that aren’t being played with, just thrown in the floor, all day. I’m tired and ready for the one break that I get each week: church. Because I need to pray for my sanity and the sanity of all mothers of 2 year olds! We need Jesus!

As I write this, my little love muffin is falling asleep. And she looks like an angel. And I know that I’ll forget all about this pill-popping-psychopath inducing lovely day that we’ve had by tomorrow morning. Maybe.

Do you know why parenting is still the best job at the end of a day like today? Because you love your boss so much. (Let’s face it: she’s the boss. I totally serve this one.) That doesn’t happen at the office. Just at home.

And don’t forget God gave us things to help with the pain: chocolate, SNL, nail polish (unless you screw up your left hand), bed time, and cars to escape in. And many other things, but like I said, I’m tired.

Sweet dreams, people!

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