Calling It Early
I was doing so well. Honestly, I thought I'd seen the last of my mental bogeymen. As it turns out, all it takes is some extra stress, and my inner control beast becomes a rage-fuelled temper tantrum with appendages. The accumulation of little things, suddenly becomes too much, and I find myself crying in the laundry because someone said "I can't find my (bag/socks/lunchbox/drink bottle/shoes/underpants)." The accumulated failure of all my attempts at organisation becomes this huge, hairy monster, and I break. Then, the guilt. Oh, the guilt. I'm tired my friends. Tired of mornings which have us apologising to each other and crying, of afternoons which probably freak the neighbours out, and painful bedtimes which drag out for HOURS. So much of this is just life. Normal, everyday life, with kids. Why can't I deal with it the way other people seem to? I don't know, and I wish I did. I can't find things to look forward to because all I h