My youngest baby turns five this month, which means I’m reminiscing about where all of this began: the infant plus toddler madness. It’s that one-time season that is exasperating on every level, where you are constantly pouring yourself out with very little tangible pay-off. Felt like a good time to republish this one. (Clearly, these sweet girls still have plenty of sass intact.)
It’s eleven o’clock at night. I’m pounding down bites of cold steak from off my dinner plate when the word that comes out of my mouth to describe my current state is “seething.” Oh, is that what I am? Obviously there’s a problem here.
Out of the overflow right? Well, what I’m overflowing with right now is hot injured anger.
“I’m just so sick of being treated like crap,” I say. “I am so COMPLETELY done. I am done-er than done. I am over it, all of it. Find my replacement.”
Matt’s listening. God bless him. So I keep purging. And then the hot tears come; the disappointed heartbroken truth rises like steam from my boiling lips. Honesty’s first impression is almost always an unlovely one.
“It’s just that I let her get to me. I know that I shouldn’t let her get to me. But how can you give someone everything- all your energy, all your…
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