I ended up staying at work a little too late, and of course, I picked the absolute wrong things to try to cook quickly, and suddenly, it was 7 pm and no one had eaten dinner. I admitted defeat and bawled. (Did I mention that the crazy-mess-of-hormones-monster is a bit of an overdramatic diva?) It seemed like everywhere I looked stood more evidence of my failure as a mommy and wife. Piles of junk mail here, piles of toys there, and way over there, a few piles of laundry. Dirty or clean? Who knows?? I don't even think my house has been vaccuumed since my mom visited us over TWO WEEKS AGO.
Not only is my house a disaster, but my child doesn't want to play with me anymore. Granted, the best I can do right now is read a story or maybe do a puzzle while sprawled out on the floor. Cara wants a buddy she can drag around everywhere, someone who can help her jump really high, who will run around with her on his shoulders. Mom is not working for these games lately.
I suppose all of these things hit me at the very same time and stole whatever logic and reasoning I had left. My poor husband. He is truly a saint.
I know now that I reacted to the whole situation last night