I had such grand plans to write a post tonight until:
…the commute that seemed endless because E got up way too early this morning and was exhausted from his day at school. Thus, nothing I did would suffice. E would not be appeased, though he did enjoy watching some construction out the window and cuddling for a bit.
…we arrived home and swept the steps and when E refused to come in, I made the (probably stupid) executive decision that we would not watch an episode of Paw Patrol and would, instead, have dinner and then go to bed.
…E had a full-blown tantrum, the likes that are rare and terrible and that found me nearly going back on my decision. He would be at moments inconsolable and then the next moment asking for a hug before throwing himself back on to the floor.
…I offered him the choice for dinner: meatloaf or chicken enchiladas? After he said he didn’t want either (and despite my reaction–in my head, of course–to respond: well, then eat nothing), he ate hummus and fruit salad.
…I got E into his pajamas and we rocked and read a book about a flower girl in a wedding and he went to bed. Early. Without tears. His or mine.
…and then made a few requests before finally falling asleep: blankets, toys, a final check-in.
I am now on my couch, watching Nashville, in a daze. I think this is the perfect storm of the upcoming daylight savings time, not getting enough sleep, and my own crankiness which seems to try to fester on days that seem endless and I struggle to catch my mama breath.
The hilarious parts about all of this is that when I said to E: “You know, I’m really frustrated,” E responded: “Don’t be frustrated. Get yourself together.”
Exactly. I’ll try it all again tomorrow.
One year ago: #sol16: That Spring Day
This post is part of the Slice of Life Challenge, hosted by Two Writing Teachers, who have created a space for writers and teachers of writers to come together. To learn more about this challenge, click here.