Rough Day

Sunday was a bad day. Like pull your hair out, run and hide, cry your eyes out type of day.

Phoebe was NOT happy ALL.DAY.

Charlie decided to work.

I was alone, with a child who cried every five minutes over something. Even toys that she's played with forever were supposed to magically do something new or she'd throw them and the crocodile tears would start.

She refused with every bone in her body to take a nap. She'd get close. Her eyes would be closed, then they'd suddenly fly open and she'd get down and go cry about something else.

I took her temperature, gave her teething tablets, held ice for her to suck on, tried to feed her, tried to give her water, took her out to swing, nothing was working for long.

I was beyond frustrated. I couldn't figure out what was going on besides the fact that she desperately needed that nap.

My hubby called around 3, after I had texted him 5439826 times and said he was grabbing lunch. I told him I wanted chicken from this Vietnamese place we like and he said he'd get it and be home soon.

I ended up walking laps outside while holding Phoebe because it seemed to calm her down.

Charlie came home and handed me my food. Phoebe immediately crawled on me and started crying/pulling at my shirt for milk. I opened my food to find the wrong chicken.

I broke down. I cried right along with my 17 month old like I was one too. I had just had it.

Bless Charlie for putting up with his crazy wife. He got up and left to go get the right chicken.

Of course my boohooing had nothing to do with the chicken. He knew that. But he was trying his darndest to make me feel better.

5 minutes after he left, Phoebe finally went down for a nap.

The rest of the day was so much better and I had to roll my eyes at myself for my little meltdown.

Oh mommy hood, you are a crazy broad.