It’s an ugly cry kind of day.
A training potty full of little boy urine dumped all over the living room rug a week ago. After three deep cleaning sessions, it still smells like urine and is making me sick to my stomach.
We are having the girl dedicated on Sunday, and we have no family except my in-laws attending. And I had to ask twice for the rest of our family to respond to our invitation to celebrate not only the dedication, but small boy’s 2nd birthday which is Monday. To say my feelings are hurt is an understatement.
The kidlets have been trying my patience for the last two days between potty accidents, fighting and teething.
Matt spent two and half days changing the brakes on his car, resulting in several trips to the local automotive store and headaches.
And I am wearing a cloak of depression on my back that is threatening to choke me.
I have yelled, thrown toys across the room and given my oldest the silent treatment. I have cried, prayed, and vented to my husband.
It’s slow going, but the praying is changing my attitude and things aren’t as bad as the pity party above makes it out to be.