With less than two hours until my husband gets home (or better get home!), I've put them both to bed. I am completely worn out.
I've taken them to the park, to the grocery store, for a golf cart ride, played outside with them both at home, played basketball with my son, painted seashell ornaments with my son, held my daughter almost all day...even while trying to fold laundry (ever fold laundry with one hand?), and fed them both numerous times.
And now...just now...my son tells me that he hates me, and that I never play with him.
Why did he say that? Because I sent him to his room for pushing his sister. Yeah...I'm that mean.
Know what I want for Christmas? A week alone. I don't even want to talk to anyone, much less deal with anyone.
Will I get it? ...not a chance...
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