I am an island surrounded by phrases like "Ian is hurting me" and "umph" (this is what Ian says when I tell him he shouldn't do something) and "it was an accident". In the last week or so I've been smacked with a rope (by Ian) and my foot has been stepped on (by Ian's shoe). Sometimes as soon as I leave a room where the kids are playing or getting dressed, someone starts crying (usually because Ian hit them). I sigh, roll my eyes, and turn around to go yell a little bit. Then, I feel bad for yelling, then 15 min later I do it again. I try to tell myself there are women before me who have had it much worse, but sometimes it doesn't help. So I go eat some chocolate. And I feel better for a little bit. Then, I run out of junk food and I don't want to take kids to the store so I snack on marshmellows. Gross. This and my baby weight compels me to go running (I had this idea that I would be skinny when Brad came back, ha, ha). Luckily, if I can get the kids all in bed by 8:30 (average twice a week with soccer now) I can go running.
So, two more days until Brad comes for the weekend. I am counting down. At the same time, I'm thinking, then four more weeks of this! Yes, we are crazy.