Five minutes ago I was psycho mom, screaming at my kids. They were pestering me and not listening, making messes and trying to pour milk, water spilled to the floor, Brielle is grabbing everything in sight like a wildebeest shopping for crystal, Aviana is asking nonstop questions and not even hearing my responses, and all the while I’m truly trying to help them while also trying to get last nights dishes done so I can find the sink, take my shake and wait impatiently for my allergy medicine to make a dent in the horrible head, and generally wake up. To say I felt beleaguered and overwhelmed would be an understatement, which does not in any way excuse my behavior.
Five minutes after my tantrum, Kevin walked in to find them calmly engaged in a color mixing activity, with me sitting across the table nursing my coffee. He thinks I’m the best mom in the world.
I only feel a little guilty for letting him continue to think so.