I don't want to write about yesterday, but I need to. I need to say something about the four and a half hours from hell, and me walking in the door to home, bursting into tears in V's arms. But I don't want to relive it. I'm scared for today. Not as scared, because I have Plans, but still...
The kids were whiny all last week. They were horrid for their parents over the weekend. And yesterday was pretty much a non-stop tantrum from Lilly, plus some spectacular contributions from Patrick, from when I got them up to when they went down for nap.
And I couldn't handle it. I did things I swore I wouldn't. I screamed at them. I smacked her. I failed as a parent.
Before you start to worry for their sake, know I am 100% honest to their parents. I left it in my daily note for their mom; I told their dad how the day had gone.
This morning, I had a long text from their mom. Part of it: "Know that I know you are wonderful and loving to them. I know how frustrating it is."
Not a word of it was condemning.
I'm doing enough of that myself.
All three of us adults in their lives agree that something is up. This behavior is out of character even for the girl who can be Miss Tantrum.
Today, I try something new. I will get them out of bed, throw some clothes on them, and shove food into them as we get in the van. I want to keep things going so there isn't any time to start the cycle. We're heading up to Ikea: their happy place. They've only been twice, but they love it. Jumping on beds, turning lights off and on, running through couches, "working" at desks. (I feel the need to add a disclaimer that they are not so wild as to hamper any shopper's experience.)
It's a trek, but we're going. Swedes, I have faith in you. Don't fail me.