I suck.

Caution:  I'm gonna cuss. That was the kind of day I had.  It was the first time I almost cussed at the kids.  I've been horrible and mean in all sorts of ways, but I have never been tempted to swear before.  I managed not to for them, but I'm gonna fucking let loose now, okay?

So over on the Family and Friends Blog, I should post about how we got our tree today, and how great it was, and how the kids also got their first ever candy canes, and how thrilled they were.

But here's where we keep it real.  All of that is real, but today, the primary lesson was--I suck.  It started at 8:05 this morning when Oak came into our bedroom all despondent because the tooth fairy didn't come last night.  He had fucking ORAL SURGERY yesterday, and the dentist pulled SIX TEETH, and I forgot to tooth fairy him, because I suck.

So I was feeling guilty for awhile, but he was being all whiny, and somehow blaming his sister for the tooth fairy's failure to deliver, then blaming his dad, and I started getting annoyed.  Next thing you know, I'm dragging him down the street in just sweatpants, because he refused to get dressed for a walk.  I'm pretty sure the neighbors are going to call DHS on me, because I suck.

 Hours later I was dragging him down the street in socks with no shoes, in miserable, wet weather, because he wouldn't put shoes on the first five times I told him to.  He was weeping and begging me to go home, and I just kept dragging him, because I suck.  I wanted to shout at all the neighbors, "He had five chances!  And cold feet won't kill him!  I'm going to let him take a hot bath when we get home!  And c'mon, how will he ever learn I mean it if I cave now!"

That was the day.  Oak being bratty, me overrreacting, and then us out in the rain going around the block in various states of walking/dragging/carrying.  I've decided that two reasons why I favor "go for a walk" when things are really shitty are because a) I need the walk to calm MYSELF down and b) if I'm walking down the street, I probably won't slap him, or do anything that would really necessitate that DHS call.  The neighbors on the second half of the block probably don't think I'm a maniac, because after we schlepp up the hill, we both lose some of our fire, and that's when we start communicating, and talking to each other about how we want our day to go, or sometimes about how cars leak oil, or the way pine trees grow new needles, and suddenly we're just a mother and son out on a walk, instead of a crazy lady and a brat having a fight in public.  But our nearest neighbors know that I suck.  And I hate that. 

Tonight grandma came over and babysat, so the Winemaker and I could go to a big raucous holiday party with no kids and inappropriate White Elephant gifts.  (We came home with a bottle of vodka and a pink purse for Linden.  It was suggested to me that I trade the vodka for an additional present for the kids, and I was all, what, are you nuts? since I suck.  At least I didn't get Bam! the 13 inch...marital aid, or the bag of medical marijuana.)  The kids were assholes for grandma.  But she was very zen about it, because she's cool like that.  At the party, a friend of mine who's hung out with us a few times was super understanding.  It amazes me when people who know what it's really like, what Oak really does, how Linden overdoes the cutsiness to get by, HOW MUCH I SUCK, forgive me, forgive them, give all of us a giant pass to fuck up and keep trying.