Breaking Point

I'm reaching the breaking point with my son. Seriously reaching the point where I want to return my kids. Can I return these for my old body, my sanity, and a new pair of hot high heels? Starburst jelly beans (which are my favorite and you can only find at Easter time) are my cigarettes (don't smoke or drink, so it's candy for me).

We are reaching the terrible two's. Some people say it only gets worst from here. I'm inclined to believe them. He's broken two of my dishes, tried to eat sunscreen, went around eating the old bread I had thrown out for the birds, covered himself head-to-toe in dirt (of course he was wearing his NICE clothes too), and tried dancing in the bathtub. Normally this would just be a normal day. I might feel exasperated, tired, a little irate, but I could deal with it. But nooOOoo - we have to add the hitting, kicking, throwing, and the temper tantrums. The full out, throws himself on the floor (sometimes with his little fists pounding the floor), screaming and crying tantrums. I'm becoming a pro at getting a diaper on a running, screaming 2 year old.

Today I wanted to throw myself on the floor and join him in the tantrum. The thought of what people would think of a mother and her son prostrate on the floor of WalMart screaming and crying is enough to make me smile (oh right - and keep from doing it). Then there's the crying. If it isn't one kid it's the other. The crying alone would make most people break.

Last night I went grocery shopping - by myself! Two blissful hours without kids. I came home to a giant hug from my husband. Apparently our daughter screamed the entire time for him while he tried to wrestle our son to bed. "I don't know how you do it, but thank you. You are a great Mom." He said. Today, I don't know if I can do it. So, I'm taking a very. deep. breath.