My own story goes something like this...
My son has been on the war path since he got up in the morning. The day has consisted of whining, a variety of fits, refusing to eat, refusing to nap, refusing to get dressed, more fits, and finally Daddy walks through the door. Now Mad is ecstatic to see his father so he runs to him gleefully throwing his arms around daddy's legs. I feel like, if not necessarily look like, road kill. So when we sit down to dinner and Maddie refuses yet again to eat and begins to whine. I snap at him. Its not pretty, and I am not proud of it, but it happens. The only whine I want at that moment is Cabernet. My dear sweet husband turns the look of disapproval on me and says aside to me that I am being a little harsh and that I would do better to practice more patience with the boy.
OH MY GOD! I don't even want to admit to you that I lost my shizniz.
"You try staying with the kid for 10 plus hours and see how patient you are. You are here for 5 minutes, of course you are going to have patience with him. Get back to me when you have put up with it for another 9 hours and 55 minutes. You know, babe, I was a completely different person when he was acting like this first thing this morning and yet, some how, over the course of the entire day I have lost it. So yes, right about now I am riding the frustration train. Your son is the freakin conductor."
What I really wanted to say went something like this- "Shut up and eat the dinner that I made while holding our 6 month old on one hip while keeping your son from bludgeoning the dog to death with a foam golf club. I am taking this bottle of Cabernet to the bathroom and will not be coming out until 1. I am a prune and 2. both these children are in bed. Peace out!"
