Derrick was gone. It was Day 10. Over said 10 day period, I had approximately 3 hours alone. 3 hours, people. Oh, and did I mention that the week before Derrick’s trip started the girls and I had recently come off a 2-week spring break? Where we spent every waking moment together?
Sooooo, I may or may not have had what I like to refer to as a “Bad Mom Moment.” Or maybe two. Or, ahem, maybe a few. (As I write this, I realize it should be a sign that I have enough of these moments to have a phrase I use to describe them. Anyhoo…)
I may or may not have said the word “stupid.” As in, “If you ask about flying that stupid kite one more time, I’m going to throw it in the trash!”
I may or may not said “shut up.” As in, “Ramsey, SHUT UP!!!” (I swear to God, that dog barks nonstop. Especially when he can sense I’m about 30 seconds away from completely losing my shit.) Oh, and Paige may or may not have repeated the above phrase about 10 minutes later. While we were in our backyard. And the neighbors on both sides of us were also in their backyards. Oops.
Well, that’s about it! A horrible day, mommy-wise.
Fine. I may or may not have dropped an f-bomb. In front of my kids. While talking to their daddy. As in, “If you ever leave home again this fucking long, just plan on finding someplace else to live.”
Yep. Stellar, STELLAR parenting happening over here, peeps.
So, I put the girls down for their naps and came up with a plan to
get the hell out of the house do something fun for dinner.
In other words, try to bribe my kids out of forgetting this day ever happened.
So, my friends, THIS is what guilt looks like:
Also included in this evening: a bubble bath with extra bubbles, TWO shows before bedtime, and an extra book each in their beds.
Let’s not make this a habit, okay girls?
The “working a guilty mommy” part, not the “mommy swears and says things she shouldn’t” part, that is. Obviously.