After my day at work, I went to pick up my munchkins at Bup and Guck's house. But, of course, Noah decided that he wanted to be a little monster and was not going to go home without fighting me on everything I asked him to do. He was embarrassingly rude and by the time I finally got him in the car, I was ready to drop him off with the next person I saw walking down the street. He whined the whole way home, and once at home, he whined about having to eat dinner. I tried to be nice to my hubby despite my my son's behavior, but was not successful and I felt terribly guilty for being so mean. As I started dinner, my head felt like it was about to explode from whining overload. By this time, Noah was whining because I would not give him orange juice and Maia was whining because I would not let her cook with me. She managed to climb onto the stool in the kitchen to try to see what I was cooking and proceeding to fall off the stool just as quickly as she got up. Instead of being worried about her and checking to see if she was okay, I single-handedly won the award for the world's worst mother when I rolled my eyes and said, "You've got to be kidding me!"
So who wants to bring me a gallon of ice cream to celebrate my award?