This Mommy needs a drink…

It turns out that unpacking thirty kazillion boxes while trying to manage the never-ending interests of a two and four year old is difficult. Maybe impossible. It turns out that apple juice and goldfish are going to trump unpacking just one tiny box during every spare second between getting home from work, making dinner and getting the TLAs into their beds. (TLA – tiny little assholes… no, they aren’t really assholes. But sometimes the Major and I need to feel like we’re getting a good curse out here and there without them knowing, so we call them TLAs. I know. God hates me, etc., move on.) ANYWAY, I suppose that during this time, I haven’t been quite the nicest mommy in the world. I have a lower than normal tolerance for having to ask ninety times for something to get done, for repetitive questioning, for pretty much everything that goes along with being a small person who ALSO just moved his entire life and is way more confused about the whole thing than I am. But a couple times since we’ve gotten all our boxes, Turbo has told me that he wants a “different mommy” because this mommy is mean. It’s funny… but it also hurts. Because I know I am not always a nice mommy. When I really question him about this new mommy, or give him my permission to go find a new one, he usually breaks down and says that he only wants THIS mommy. And THAT is always nice to hear. (But it ain’t helping get these boxes unpacked, either.)


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