He was lucky. It wasn't too soon. My wrath had abated as quickly as it had materialized. All that was left now was a bit of embarrassment. There was no question about it, yesterday Mommy threw a wobbly greater than anything either of the boys had ever been able to muster - I'm ashamed to say - and our youngest has quite a temper on him.
I've been quick to attribute his fiery temper to his Father, but honestly, I don't think I've ever seen a Daddy paddy - no matter how infamous my husband is within his clan for his childhood tantrums. After yesterday's performance, I think it's only fair to concede that our youngest may have inherited his paddy pants nature from Mommy's bloodline - perhaps it originates from his Nana's Irish roots...
In my defense I'M PREGNANT! I can't count how many times Daddy must have heard me say those words, this time around. I don't think I even brought out the big guns until the ninth month with my first pregnancy - and even with boy number two, I had enough of a daily respite to soften my ire-ish antagonism before it rocketed off the charts. But this pregnancy I feel like I've played all my best cards way too early on in the game and - unfortunately for me - the 'I'm pregnant!' trump card doesn't work anymore. For some crazy reason Daddy thinks I've got this in the bag.
News flash for Daddy - I don't! For the first time in my life I well and truly understand what it means to be knackered! Believe me - I'm flattered he thinks I'm Super Mom, and as much as I hate to alter his wonderful perception of me, I can't keep up the charade anymore. I need my Knight in Shining Armour to let me put my feet up when he gets home from his day job, put on his pinny and become Daddy Poppins - at least for an hour or so...
Yesterday's Easter Monday meltdown was bound to happen for a number of reasons - many way out of poor Papa's control. Sunday was Easter - and a really great day. So, like Boxing Day, or the last day of a summer holiday, Monday was never going to live up to Mommy's expectations, and I got a heavy bout of what I like to call the 'Sunday Blues' to accompany the post Easter chocolate come-down.
As Daddy was home, I indulged in going in slow motion, so Daddy (who's permanently in slow motion anyway), ever happy to follow my lead, slowed down so much he was almost going backwards - much to my dismay. I'd needed him to pick up my slack with the toddlers - possibly not a fair expectation, after all, it was Daddy's Easter break too.
It didn't take long for the kids to get bored, and stir-crazy in the house, without a motivated Momma calling the shots. Harmony soon turned into mayhem, toddler tantrums and fighting! By the time poor Daddy had cottoned on to his role it was a little too late, and - under a baleful Momma's watchful eyes - he couldn't do right for doing wrong. At the best of times it's always hard for a Mommy to stand back and watch Daddy take the reins. All we Mommies ever want is for the Daddies to do their best. Of course I want him to do it his way - as long as it's the RIGHT way!
I didn't mean to criticize - but of course I couldn't stop myself. And Daddy's irritation upset Mommy, who was only trying to help. Heap all this in with a healthy dose of preggo hormones and bingo bango boom - RAH!!!!!! As much as I don't like to censor my blog, I think I'll spare you the gory details (just this once). We'll just say it wasn't pretty...
I'm really sorry Daddy, although (let's face it) not about everything, after all, it was pretty nice to wake up an hour later than the early-birds this morning to a spic-and-span kitchen! One thing is for sure, I can certainly empathize with my irrational and unreasonable baby so much better, when I can act like one myself!
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