End to a bad day

Dear Ishmael,

To steal dear Lydia's letter from Beetlejuice

I am Alone.

I am utterly Alone.

Today just won't end.


I actually cried over chocolate this evening.


I was devastated to find out after looking through the little purple bag that Alaina's treats were sent to daycare in, that all of Alaina's classmates were sent home with huge chocolate peanut butter hearts.

And the teachers apparently didn't get anything to take home.


So I cried.

But the hormonal winning streak didn't stop there.

Right now my daughter is in her bed screaming her head off. She didn't think she needed to go to bed.

So she refused to go potty

refused to brush her teeth

and refused . . .well, to do anything.

So I picked her up and put her in her bed, kicking and screaming. My husband found this to be a good time to inform me that I should have just let him step in and Alaina would do what he asked because she always listens to him.

I didn't dare to even open my mouth to tell him what a terrible time it was to say that to me.

I'll just sit here and pretend that the terrible twos are going to end exactly on her third birthday.

And try not to ruin it for me, Ishmael or I may cry again.