* I wrote this yesterday, when I was still freshly angry.
I re-read it today, and I still find it amusing...so...yeah.*
This morning....there was a tube of black ink/paint in the wash.
In the load of half dry clothes.
Which means I've essentially baked in the ink.
Which means the clothes are ruined.
I know I had put it out into the universe that I wanted new clothes.
This is NOT what I meant.
This is one of those moments in parenting where you really want to ask your child: 'Da fuq?!?!?!?!'
No I don't talk to Boomer like that. But I really, really, really wanted to.
- 'Where in 'da fuq' did you come up with this tube of clothing killer?'
- 'I found it on the floor at Mimi's house.'
- 'Why in 'da fuq' would you just take something from Mimi's house?'
- 'I don't know Mommy.'
- 'Who in 'da fuq' is going to buy me new clothes for work?'
- 'What in 'da fuq' is the matter with you?!?!?!?!'
- 'Sorry mommy...want to pray about it?'
So...we had the who, what, why, where conversation minus all the Eff bombs. Then she drops Jesus in the mix.
NO I DON'T WANT TO FREAKING PRAY ABOUT IT!!!!!
I want my clothes not to be messed up. I want for my kid to not be the most full of mischief seven year old in Columbus. I WANT to throw an tantrum.
I didn't. I told Boomer I needed some time alone. So I went upstairs, and took another shower. You can never be too clean, and the water calms me down.
I got out. I told her I loved her very much. She apologized, I told her I forgave her, and to stop being a klepto. Then we all went about our morning.
Good day all.