I was going to sit here and write a post about how much I hated my children today. Seriously. Up until about 5 seconds ago I was stewing in my hatred for two children whom I chose to bring into this world. As I took a shower, Bill Cosby's words rang in my ears "I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it."
All day long I have wanted to throttle Alexandra. My voice is hoarse from yelling at her mostly to stop hitting, pushing, or choke-holding her sister. My blood boiled all day long as the hours crept by at a seemingly snails pace. She went to time-out at least twice though, what sort of impact it is having on her other than she tells her toys to go to time-out I don't know.
Josephine, on the other hand, I have a little more patience for but I still want to put her in her crib, shut the door, and leave. Like, totally leave. Like, get in the car and leave. Alas, the responsible adult in me realizes that to do so would certainly mean jail time and that's enough to stop me in my tracks.
This is all to say, though, that just prior to writing this I read a story about a couple who are getting married because their 2 year old has only weeks to live. Talk about perspective. Despite the fact that I can honestly say today I hated my children at least I know that tomorrow morning they both will wake-up. Both of them will have forgotten the day before and both of them will laugh and play and yes, fight, but the fact is they will be alive.
And now I feel like the shittiest mother in the world.
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