I confessed to Jake that I would rather work tomorrow than spend the day with our grumpy little girl.
I'm awful. I know.
She's two. I'm seven months pregnant in the middle of the summer. We're all hot and tired and bored and stressed and frustrated and grumpy. Close your eyes and just imagine the boat-loads of fun we're having at our house.
Work has been very stressful lately but at least in my office it's quiet. My coworkers don't get mad at me when I can't pull them in a wagon or play catch outside. There is never a battle going on over my lunch break- I can eat in silence without having to scold the person next to me for putting her feet on the table or throwing an apple. When I ask someone what they need help with I'm given a straight answer instead of just a shake of the head followed by a tantrum on the floor. I never have to force anyone to pick-up their toys or come to me for a diaper change. It's just....easier. Most days.
Rachel is one smart cookie and she knows that the times, they are a changing. She sees the crib in her bedroom and the clothes hanging in her closet and knows her time as the only child in the house is coming to an end. And she doesn't like it. She doesn't like being told that soon she'll have to learn to get her own milk, clear her own plate from the table, and share her daddy.
Life has a funny way of throwing change at us and it doesn't matter if we're two or thirty-two... it's difficult. So tonight when we pick up Rachel from daycare I'm going to say my daily prayer that she'll be in a good mood (for at least the next few hours). Except this time I'll add one more request... that we will all learn to get through this together.