It was bound to happen; all at once the good will and teamwork broke down and I was left with two tired, overwrought kids I've come to think of as Weepy and Irritated McNeedy.
(Sometimes they are trendy and use my surname, Exhaustion, but I hesitate to hyphenate the two for it would be cumbersome at their new school I imagine.)
There were no groceries purchased this week, save a trip for some produce after swimming lessons, and even swimming couldn't undo the damage.
They cried at every turn, and I lashed out, proving once again that I will not be taking home the mother of the year award.
Even as I snarled, vacuuming before a showing, I knew I was wrong and needed to knock it off. I knew that if I was feeling edgy, so were they.
(And the fish, well, they were nearly frying and I thought of Stuart.)
By Thursday morning, I felt like I was an ad for some messed up energy drink: Seize the Day, now with meth.
I'm happy to report we turned the corner today. I saw some friends and their scrumptious babies this morning. I took a nap before dinner. I have plans that don't involve home improvement, besides some good ol' mopping. I even imagine I'm going to indulge in a little Buffy tonight, nuzzling my good and imperfect kids- we are but a matching set - and we will try to fill the cracks, in a house that heard too little laughter this week.