There are those days that I am so glad to be home with my babies. Everything falls into place. I do not yell. No one ends up in time-out. I only vacuum once. We play outside in the warm sunshine, splashing and laughing. Then, Sarah waits until I turn my around to dead-head some flowers and she pinches her brother, continuously until I turn to see what is going on. She screams at me and runs away to the other side of the yard. Then, I see that it's in my hands right now how this will all turn out. Why can't I just stomp and yell and scream? Why do I have to pick everything up myself? I want to scream. I want to yell. I don't feel like a parent at this point, I feel like a 13 year old girl who thinks that this arrangement is not fair. What do I get out of this? Then as I scoop her up in one arm and little JR in the other, she looks at me and says, "Mommy, I need to go in time-out now" All the while she is kicking and yelling and acting just like the two year old that she is. Instead of my normal fight-or-give-in, instead of yelling, I just place her in time-out for the allotted 3 minutes and start to make her lunch. After the timer goes off she scurrried over to the table, ate her lunch and informed that she needed a nice, long, nap now. All is right in out world.
So, with both babies sleeping, what does Momma do?
I cooked up a bag of 94% Fat Free Butter Popcorn in the micro and doused it with some REAL butter. That's lunch for today.
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