I know, I know. It’s been said to death: this parenting thing isn’t easy. Sure, there are cute moments, and wine, and funny stories about poop, and wine, and precious memories, and wine. But some days, you just don’t wanna do it. I had one of those days on Saturday.
Y’all, I was bitchy. For no apparent reason, bitchy. It was that out of left field just because it was my turn to be bitchy bitchy. I had zero patience. None were spared. I don’t even remember what all we did, and no, it’s not the wine. I refrained from refreshing myself until at least 7:00 PM, seeing as how I had to take Felix to a birthday party. I was disgruntled. I was cross. I
am was burnt out. I was mean, cantankerous, and pissed off.
And then I was appropriately guilty for being that way.
Sunday, for whatever reason, I woke up a different person. I was kind, creative, and inspired. I was patient and good. The only thing I was missing was a big poofy ballgown, a giant tiara, a magic wand, and a name change to Glinda. We dyed our hair. We giggled over Snapchat filters. We had a tea party. There was a swimming lesson for Stella. I don’t think I yelled at them even once. Wait. I lie. I yelled at them a bit at bedtime because dagnabbit I was watching Game of Thrones.