Last Friday night I stayed up way too late. I wasn't watching "Breaking Bad" or reading or anything fun. I was desperately trying to finish an assignment so I could enjoy my weekend. Those 2-3 hours of sleep I got that night were not enough and I paid for it (and so did my kids, unfortunately).
On Saturday I was okay. We went to visit Jenny and Aaron and took the kids to Java Jungle. They ran around like the crazies they are and had a blast. Then we picked up party supplies for Colt Buddy's birthday party and headed home. I got super sleepy on the drive, but we made it and everything went okay.
On Sunday, we had to venture into Jackson for diapers and to order Colt's cake and some other stuff. Emma got a new swimsuit, too. It was so cute watching her pick it out! When we got home, the lack of sleep hit me like a train. While the kids were being good and watching TV, I laid down on the couch to rest.
When I woke up, Emma was in her swimsuit and sitting in a big puddle of water in the dining room. I yelled, "What are you doing?" She said, "It's okay, Mom. I'm in my swimsuit."
I lost it. I screamed at my kids. Screamed. I hate myself for it. Three days later, I can finally see the humor, but I was livid in the moment. Why was that my reaction? I am hoping it was the lack of sleep, but I feel horrible. In eight more weeks, I will be done with my master's degree. From there, I want to be a lot more selective about how I spend my free time. I cherish those two monkeys way too much to treat them like that. I am hoping this mommy guilt goes away soon.
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