game over

Some days I am so disappointed in my mothering. Some days I don't have much of a choice, but I hear the nagging tone bundled in frustration and I feel like an asshole. Today was one of those days, this morning at least.

M to her credit, has been hell on wheels. She's melting down at the slightest thing that doesn't go her way. As I am stepping over her this morning as she's losing her mind for the third time in 15 minutes (you will not wear the freaking princess dress five days in a row to school you will not you will not no way no it's filthy and it's wet and it's just not happening) she's puddled on the floor, alligator tears and I turn to J and say I can't take this anymore, I simply cannot. And I feel bad as I say it, I know it's not true and I can take this and I will take this and it's not even in perspective that much to take but I lose my center and fall from grace.

So we are driving to school and I ask her why, why we can't be on the same team, this one little team that has to bend and flex and give. She grunts and folds her arms, I see her in the mirror. Baby, I say, I really could use your help. I want to be a better mama than this. I am utterly heartfelt and gooey. I mean this. I can almost taste us reaching a paradigm shift right here in the car. I wait, I hope, I hedge my bets for her response.

And she eyes me in the mirror and utters Me too, mama, me too. We should negotiate more so I can get what I want.

And with that I start laughing and you know, holy shit. I might just do better admitting defeat.