I wish bad mom days could be covered as easily with a ponytail as bad hair days. I suppose you can cover them with kisses and I-Love-Yous, but the damage has still been done and the hurt could possibly remain.
Charming isn't well. I won't go as far as calling him "sick" because, for one, I've read too many books lately with mortally ill children and, for two, because I think he is on the mend. However, that doesn't negate the fact that he's been up most of two days and I'm including the nights with that. Forty-eight hours of fussy baby who must be held, bites when I try to nurse and won't sleep.
Makes Mama a little crazy.
It is on days like these that I expect my "big" kids to take care of themselves. If, on the off chance, Charming lets me put him down for ten seconds, I might, perchance, want to cook something.
OK, seriously, I don't WANT to cook something. I NEED to cook something or we will forage all weekend for food and Hubs gets grumpy and I feel wretched (crackers and cheese might be a healthy snack, but isn't healthy over six meals).
But, as usual, if I begin to cook something, Charming again needs me. Hubs thinks that there is nothing he can do for the baby (not that I do either, but I AM the mom...).
Picture, if you can: Crying baby, bread dough very over-risen, cabinets covered in cooking apparatai, me juggling baby and Frodo asking every 12.4 seconds for strawberries.
I CAN'T DO IT ALL, PEOPLE!
So when say Eldest or Princess come in the room and ask a very reasonable request, what does Mom do?
BLAGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! (remember Animal from the Muppet Show? Or maybe the Tasmanian Devil?)
Yeah, I spent the day wishing my kids would ACT THEIR AGE! And then I remembered that they are. They area acting like children. Young children. Which anyone with half a mind would recognize them being.
I could argue that with as little sleep as I've had that I only have half a mind left, but excuses don't cut it when there are people with feelings involved.
The nice thing is, they all still love me. Kissed me goodnight. And are very willing recipients when I do have time to give them. But, I'm reminded, the clock's ticking. They are growing up and leaving me and I will just want them to be little again.
Tomorrow, first thing, I'm going to....
And the nighttime resolutions begin. Tomorrow's another day.