Why is it that while I am the one who begs to go to bed by 9:00, my husband, who thinks going to bed before 10:00 is depressing, falls asleep within two seconds before I've even found my comfy spot? So, here I am, thinking about the day when I would really much rather be sleeping it off.
I hate the days that I feel like "Mean Mommy", like I've said "No" to absolutely everything. My favorite days are the days when everybody is being sweet and reasonable, (I mean, as reasonable as a three year old and a one year old can be, of course.) and I get to say "Yes, that's a great idea!" to most every request.
Today was not one of those days.
It was one of those days when I couldn't put my finger on exactly what was wrong with the picture, but I kept thinking, "At what point did my children lose their minds and I lose control of the situation?"
Even now, I'm thinking about several moments during the day when I stood staring at Luke with my mouth hanging open and him staring back at me with this sheepish grin on his little face. There wasn't necessarily anything to discipline, but an overall insanity that needed something that I was completely at a loss to supply. Is this making sense?
By the time Kris got home, I had admitted defeat and given control over to the natives. Thankfully, he had a little more left in him than I did and not all our possessions were completely destroyed. Thank you, God, for a good, helpful husband.
Tomorrow will be a much better day, I feel sure. If not, I'll be FedExing two little boys to Grandma.