Grey days.

I'm tired. Oh, so tired and heavy-hearted. The countless days blur by me in one struggle after another: consequence and discipline after consequence and discipline. They say it's a phase. Really? I'm all done with this phase, thank you. I'm all done with feeling like the biggest nag in the world. For feeling embarrased and ashamed at how angry I get some days with these little people. Who in the world do I think I am storming around like that when I'm angry? Get ahold of myself. I'm tired of looking at other mothers and thinking that they have all their shit together, and only if they knew who I was, or how I yelled that morning... What a failure I feel like sometimes.

And then I have a good moment. A Norman Rockwell moment. All is right with the world. Everyone has fallen in line with the expected norm. There is laughter and sunshine. Oh, my soul. I need more of these moments.