Day like this reinforce why parenting and not the Peace Corps is the hardest job you'll ever love.
After working sick most of the week, my first 'day off' has been a nonstop wrestling match with a Fuss who's not feeling his best either. Lately nothing and nobody will do except Dada- Dada has to feed him, dada has to carry him around everywhere, dada has to sit and watch a show with him, dada has to read him the book, etc etc. Everybody's off today, we've got a full house, but I'm the only one he'll tolerate, and he's been in vocal pursuit since 7am.
Which is hard enough normally, but when you feel like lukewarm ass it really grinds you down. Today he got the parenting equivalent of a junk bond portfolio- it looks like the usual blue chip stuff, but on closer examination isn't worth the paper it's printed on.
He just raced out of the bath, jumped up on the couch and started yelling DADA over and over at the top of his lungs, and I snapped I HEAR YOU, STOP SHOUTING! I HEAR YOU!
It didn't seem to phase him, but now I feel shitty about it.
It's helpful to remind yourself at times like this that parenting is a marathon, not a sprint, and an occasional off kilter stretch is just part of the race.
Now the dilemma is do I submit to exhaustion, pass out and try again tomorrow, or stay up for a bit to get at least a few minutes of adult interaction unleavened by Fuss doing everything in his considerable power to drive me out of my fucking mind.
Decisions, decisions.
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