Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Six Days

Six more days. Six. I can do anything for six days, right? 

Summer, we are so so so done. I cannot bear another second of you. I need you to go back where you came from. I need normalcy. I need schedule. I need my child's sanity back. I need MY sanity back. Six. More. Days.

The last weeks of summer are awful. As a mother it ranks up there with the last weeks of being pregnant, the end of Christmas vacation, and the time between starting a sick kid on antibiotics and them going back to school. It all sucks. Big sucks. Not little sucks. Big Big Big ones. The largest of sucks.

My girl is losing her mind. She swings from telling me she loves me
That isn't makeup. That is the warpaint of her people.
It means she will kill someone if they tell her she
can't use the iPad to play the Frozen game. 
to telling me that I am a mean mean mommy. Within like 15 minutes. It is really confusing. She has made me cry three times in the last two weeks. I have cried to my husband. My friends. Even my boss. I never knew a four year old could hurt my feelings. But she does. A lot. Today after I bought her ice cream she got mad and screamed at me in the parking lot of the Teeter that she wanted a new mommy. So I offered to find her one. Instead of making her happy, considering I offered to do exactly what she asked for, it enraged her even more and she started wailing and screaming like I told her that they made all the My Little Ponies in the whole world into dog food and glue. 

I can't decide what about school starting back is most thrilling. Is it the schedule? Cause we haven't seen one of those in a few months. Hello decent bedtime again. I love you. Or is it the fact that I will get some time to myself again? Maybe I can stroll the aisles of Target alone. Or go to the bathroom alone. Or drink a cup of coffee and look at Facebook without someone sitting thisclose to me and asking me who every single person in my feed is. Or maybe it is that I can drop her off and know that she is excited and busy and learning, and I no longer have to meet any of those needs on a minute by minute basis. And when I pick her up she will be tired, happy, and socialized. And she will be excited to see me, instead of annoyed that I am actively trying to keep her from having any fun ever and that I never let her listen to her and that I am so so mean.

So six more days. Six days of frantic texts with friends for play dates. Six days of bad attitude, eye rolling, and whining. Six days of being the mommy punching bag, and then all will be right with the world. Lord help me. I may not make it. And if you see me somewhere in public with tears in my eyes and a child who appears to be having some kind of mental break down, just look the other way. We will be fine in six days.

(Did I mention the wee one is also going to school? Six days. Six days. Six days.)


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