Oh. My. Gracious.
This was one of those days PRIME for Mama Meltdown.
Cadrian pester pester pestering to walk across the field to meet up with the combine (child doesn’t realize he’s only four). Finally after all the no’s, and he still won’t stop arguing, I tell him he doesn’t get to go at all. Tantrum. Tantrum. Tantrum.
Denton grab grab grabbing everything he can get his chubby little paws on. Cadrian’s card. Book. Car. Stick. He doesn’t care. As long as it isn’t his he wants it. Tears galore. Whining immense. Bicker bicker bickering.
Denton scream scream screaming after his nap for no reason.
Girls lose lose losing their free tickets to the play at the theater where they take ballet. I had decided I couldn’t handle the boys and the baby at the play, so asked a friend to take them. She willingly agreed and then it turned out we had no tickets. Aviana’s was lost lost, and Brielle misplaced hers five minutes before we walked out the door. I said that we couldn’t go then…I did not want to drive an hour to drop them off with a baby who does not travel well (read: screams most of the trip) AND pay for the tickets! Tears, tears, tears. Brielle said she would use her own money and then Aviana cry cry crying because she had generously and thoughtfully given most of her money to The Great Commission. Finally we agreed they would pay half.
Denton poo, poo, pooing and pee, pee, peeing everywhere. Yesterday poo in his pants in the very top of the McDonald’s play place. Me crawling up there with bleach wipes and dragging him back down. Me ending up having to clean the bathroom floor, wall, toilet, sink, and diaper changing station, not to mention his legs and bum. Today poo on the cream living room carpet, with tiny brown footprints all the way to the bathroom. Me having to bathe him. Coming back from getting him new clothes to discover a bathtub of floaters.
Me cry, cry, crying because I have no idea WHY this kid is not poo trained yet or how to begin to clean this mess up. Me shampooing what ends up to be most of the carpet. Me running over the vacuum cord and shredding off the covering. Me feeling guilty because I should be getting dinner and starting bedtime, but I just want to get. This. Finished.
Me, never once losing it, until Dear Husband walks in and asks, “You’re shampooing the carpet?!”
Let this be a world wide apology sweet husband. I’m sorry. l love you.
Want to go get ice cream?