S.O.S. please, someone help me...words from one of Rihanna's songs that immediately popped into my head today. I haven't blogged in so long and many of you don't know that I left my job in retail management because I was tired of the scheduling...and the drama. I have since decided that I am okay with being a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM). By the way, I hate that moniker. Loathe is more like it. It makes SAHM moms sound as if we were living circa 1950s as June Cleaver. But, I digress.
I have officially been at home with Drew since the end of January. I must say that during the past couple of months I have enjoyed being at home. I love waking up and knowing that I get to spend the entire day with my little man. I don't love doing the housework, taking care of the bills, grocery shopping or the laundry. I do it all and I try not to complain because I am extremely fortunate.
The past week or so has taken a toll on me. I have gone from having a sweet little boy to a two year old who thinks that "no" is his favorite word and I am his personal jungle gym. He likes to hit on occassion and throw the meanest temper tantrums, all while folding over his bottom lip, a signature look I might add. He came out of the womb with that lip folded over. Lately, I am wiped out by 2pm and that's on a good day. Today was no different...exhaustion hit, followed by crankiness and this was just how I was feeling. I kept thinking to myself, if I can just find a place to hide....
While I try to buck up and make it through the evening I keep chanting, "It's almost bedtime. It's almost bedtime."
