Every mom has those days. Sometimes multiple times per week even. The Ohmygod if I Have to Pull the Child Away From The Dang Cords One More Time! kind of days. Sometimes I think a chimp could do my job. Picking up the same book off the same floor to put it in the same spot on the shelf and sweeping the space under the booster seat eighteen times a day and closing the file drawer time after time so that the curious little paper-eater doesn't wreak any more havoc in there. Hmmmm. A house chimp. Maybe I should look into getting one of those.
It's a lot easier to look at those days from a not-in-that-day space. From here I can nod my head and understand. I can roll my eyes at the frustration and I can suggest the consummation of copious amounts of chocolatey desserts.
But in that space? The frustration space? I know it feels like there's nothing else. Like every waking hour of every waking day will be spent getting angrier and angrier at a little person who doesn't deserve the anger. Then the anger that you feel is at yourself for just being angry. And the badness continues.
Dear Lord, I hate those days.
And if there's anything to love, it's looking at them from a that-was-then point of view.
Today I feel nothing but love for my Lucy. We went to the wading pool, we sat at the canal for longer than I wanted to watching boats go by, we went to the library and dumped all the puzzles on the floor. I taught her how to shimmy-shimmy-shake her shoulders to music. It's 9:47pm and I'm recently home from work and I have to restrain myself from going into her room to wake her up and cuddle her and love on her.
If only we could get the shimmy days without the Rage days.
I think the answer might actually be a house chimp.