Happy Boobday! No picture of my boobs this week. Time got away from me, and I had no real reason to take a picture of them that was any different from other boob pictures I’ve posted.
I’m writing this on Thursday night for a Friday morning post, and I’m not feeling particularly sexy or smart or cheeky. I was beaten down by a three year old tonight. There was screaming and crying – from both of us.
I know, intellectually, that this too shall pass and we will survive this. But right now, I feel like a failure. I know, I know, I’m not a failure. But there are moments when I’m at my wits end (like every parent) and I wonder why I can’t seem to win the fight, and it’s in those moments, I wonder what’s wrong with me.
I didn’t go through the threes with my oldest by myself. I was still married, and it didn’t seem this hard. Maybe it was and I’ve blocked it all out. But nothing seems to reach him. Nothing.
It was as I was restraining him while he kicked at me and screamed that I cried, quietly to myself. It was when I finally hit my breaking point and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind me, that I finally penetrated through the fog of his anger. I went to my room, threw myself across the bed, and sobbed – like the little girl that I am sometimes. I heard his bedroom door open, and I got up – prepared to yell again – and he apologized.
I sat down on the floor outside of his bedroom, and he sat down across from me. We just stared at each other for a moment. Finally I asked him why he apologized. He told me that his brother said he should. I cried all over again. He and I came to an understanding, of sorts, and I tucked him back into bed.
I gave my oldest a final kiss good night and whispered, “Thank you, baby.”
Maybe I’m doing something right after all.
Anyway, no boobday for me this week. But go on over to Hy’s world and check out all the lovely boobies that I’m sure are posted there. You’ll be glad you did!