18 Mar 2018

Week Eleven

I don't know how I and the children survive the week. For some reason, I struggled to keep my temper and lost my shit a number of times.

At one point I called my son an idiot. I felt really bad about it until he pushed his sister over and shouted in my face that he wouldn't put. HIS. SHOES. ON!!!

Everything runs smoothly until it's time to put shoes on. Then everything falls apart.

I probably said for fuck's sake about 7964 times.

On Tuesday.

Mother of the Year over here.

I don't feel very good about it. Believe me. I wish I didn't shout and yell and scream.  I really wish calling my kids names didn't happen. The words just come out of my mouth  I'm trying. I really am. I'm just not patient, or loving, and my tolerance for constant whingeing and bullshit is really low.

Not an excuse. I know.

And yes. I apologised to him. He said it was ok. I hope he doesn't become a serial killer now.

So I have the big one talking back and pressing all my buttons and the little one throwing tantrums, crying and whingeing from dawn to dusk. Her favourite saying at present is NO WAY and 'What you doing Mum? What you doing? Mum. What you doing?' Repeat ad nauseam for 17 hours a day.

Interspersed with crying.

They were sent here to destroy me. I swear.

Hopefully I don't fuck them up too much!