Yesterday was one of those crap days. The kind that, when bedtime finally, mercifully, pulls in I feel as though I failed as a parent and I can't remember a single good thing that happened. I yelled too much. I cleaned my house instead of playing with my children and had nothing to show for it. I lost my temper. I didn't enjoy my family. I ran out of Diet Coke. I didn't make dinner. All I wanted to do was sink into the couch and watch 47 hours of Real Housewives and pass out drunk on the hystrionics of those plasticized, idle, insane clown ladies.
But sometime yesterday this happened:
And just looking at it made me want to get up this morning and start again.
Thanks for the second chance, kids. I'll get it right one of these days.
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