Pin It I pondered titles for this post. Manic Monday, which I think I've used before. Holly Jolly Stressed Out Holiday. @#$%&! (A personal favorite.) Other Mothers That Yell, Please Tell Me I'm Not Alone. It's Not Hormones, I Swear. And the Moral of the Story Is...(always carry Nilla Wafers). I couldn't decide, hence the "Untitled."
I yelled at Autumn today.
It was just one of those things. You know...you've waited ten minutes past time picking the child up from yet another athletic activity that stresses you out, manage to make it five minutes down the road, and the child realizes that she left every single personal belonging she owns back at the gym. And if you don't go to get it right this very instant, it will be thrown away.
I might not have been quite so close to the edge of reasonable behavior if the pick-up time hadn't been right in the middle of suppertime. Our meal was currently sitting in the oven, while I sat in the car, heaving intermittently and nibbling desperately at a stray Nilla Wafer I discovered in the console. I was going to puke up my stomach acids if I didn't get some food. Now.
So I lost it a little, was instantly ashamed, and sulked in silence the entire thirty minute drive home, even when Autumn offered a sheepish, "thank you for taking me back." I managed to choke out an "I'm sorry I yelled" about the time we made it to the driveway, but still.
Bad Mother Award Candidate: there she blows.
I'm not going to chalk it up to pregnancy, even though my husband swears I'm never as irritable and difficult to please as I am when I'm gestating. I think it had a lot to do with it being the first day of Christmas Break and my asinine decision to tackle Sam's Club and Wal-Mart in a single fell swoop to get the grocery shopping done.
What a moron I am. Who goes to Walmart and Sam's the week before Christmas? EVERYONE. And their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, and redneck cousin twice removed. My baby will probably develop hypothermia from having to walk from the far reaches of the parking lot, and brain damage from the twenty people that shoved my cart into my stomach. What should have been a relatively simple morning shopping expedition took us until 1:00. The entire time was spent wrangling my two offspring into some semblance of appropriate behavior, which involved threatening bodily injury if they didn't stop rearranging the shelves. And/or inspecting every carton of eggs.
It was a day, and I yelled.
But I'm okay now. I've had a caffeine infusion, some food, and I'm considering chocolate. Autumn emptying the dishwasher without being asked and wrestling her brother into submission in the other room didn't hurt, either.
Here's to the next two manic weeks. May we all survive intact.