Anyway. I hit a new low this week. I have admitted it to several (including Chris and my own mother), so I might as well post it on my blog. I told Quinn to "go brush your fucking teeth." I may have actually said, "GO BRUSH YOUR FUCKING TEETH!" Luckily, he has yet to repeat it. It was the end of a VERY long day, day three of Chris being gone, two of them with me flying solo, and the kids and I were at the end of our ropes. Quinn spit his toothpaste out at me (or at least he seemed to be spitting at me - he may beg to differ), kept biting down on his toothbrush when I was trying to help him, threw the toothbrush out of the bathroom into the hallway, and then went storming off after it toward sleeping Henry's room, yelling and laughing, and asking at decibel 12, "Is that funny, Mommy?", waking little Henry up. I make no excuses, just giving a full picture of the situation. I tell you this so maybe it will make something you said or did seem not so bad.
Tonight, he was a dream. "We're working together, Mommy! I love you, Mommy." while we were cleaning up the three full shelves of books that Ellie had thrown onto the floor. He knew I'd be blogging about him.
Motherhood is hard. Motherhood to three children under three is really hard.