The note under my windscreen wiper yelled ‘LEARN TO PARK FUCKWIT’. Who does that? Could they not see the car seat in the back indicating a child. I didn’t even notice it until I got home. Then I was enraged. With nowhere to direct it. Gees. I wanted to sit down with an ice cold wine. It’s summer and warm. I am holidays. Normally I would be drinking a glass or two every night at this time of year.
C wouldn’t get dressed as usual this morning so there was a last minute rush to get out the door to get both kids to Bounce to be ripped off 34 dollars for an hour of play, while I watched on. Chastising myself for overreacting to being late and not seeing a givaway sign until the last second and both kids complaining of seatbelt burn in the ensuing brake. And the spiral of ‘terrible parent’ guilt began. If only I could get a handle on anger. It swirls around and erupts. Usually out of my eyes in frustrated tears. Or yelling. Or sharp tones and impatient responses. Or burying my face in a pillow and screaming till I feel exhausted. That last one is actually therapeutic and muffled which is good.
Hideous photo day 4