The worst terrible, no-good days are the ones that seem like you’re doing good. Mary stayed in her own bed all night (which has been a fairly frequent issue), we played outside while Clare napped, I have homemade sweet potatoes fries baking in the oven because I’m just that domestic at the moment.
But then I’m yelling at Mary because she doesn’t listen when I tell her to pick up her dry bean mess (which I fully expected and thought I was okay with…until she flat out doesn’t listen to me). I hate myself yelling at her. I hate turning on the TV to get her to stop crying and give me time to nurse Clare who’s screaming too. And now they’re both happy on the floor, playing and I just wish they’d nap so I can read my book.
I think I need more sleep. And a husband who isn’t sick (he’s finally getting better!). And a run longer than a hurried ten minutes. All I wanted for my birthday was a nap. Or a five mile run. Maybe both. And all I got was a lousy tshirt. Which really isn’t that lousy, but it’s how I felt. My poor hubby. He’s never ever this sick. And I’m too bitter about everything to even be extra nice to him.
Time to get in a better mood. 🙂 Nobody likes a whiner!