Let me paint a picture for you.
I have crazy hair. My mascara is dripping. The circles under my eyes are starting to resemble that Zombie movie Dawn of The Dead. I have been wearing the same tank-top for two days and it is starting to put off an odor. I am rummaging around the house like a mad woman searching for my precious Zoloft and you better dang believe there is some high dollar vodka chilling in my freezer.
Before all of you perfect mothers go and start judging me...imagine being alone, on an island, with your red-headed two year old (who by the way has the temperament of a hand grenade) Imagine trying to buy groceries, toilet paper, tampons and what-have-you with a screaming appendage who is going all kinds of exorcist in your cart, throwing things on the floor as fast as you can put them in. Imagine getting home only to realize that amid the blood curdling screams of your dear, sweet offspring you basically just grabbed things at random...coming home with an assortment of four boxes of easy mac, three Lean cuisines, a jar of pickles and...Japanese rice candy?!?! Because you had to to make a quick exit out of the grocery store, because said toddler was so far gone in the grips of her metldown that she ripped the neck of your favorite shirt open...because for the love of everything that is holy you were just grabbing things-anything so at least you would have something to show for the amount of suffering you just endured.
Imagine that. Just do it. Humor me.
If that isn't enough to make you grab your hair, rock back and forth and scream "WHY?! Why me?!" then imagine driving down the road, jamming to a great tune only to have your toddler climb up into the passenger seat...because apparently she has figured out how to unbuckle herself out of her carseat.
Yep, that's me, I fail as a mother. If it wasn't for Zoloft and life's sweet nectar I like to call vodka, why ya'll...I would surely be in jail by now and Dog himself would be posting my bail.
It's one am....and my beloved is sitting beside me, covered in toothpaste and sobbing because she is "sticky" ....because she figured out how to climb over the baby gate I use to gate her into her room at night....and played in her toothpaste while I was in the shower.
Wanna trade? didn't think so.
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