I've seen better days

I was a bad mama yesterday morning. There's no way to sugar-coat it.

Jeff had to leave at 5:30 a.m. to go to an all-day work thing in another town, and I knew he wouldn't be getting home until late last night. So I was on my own with getting Biscuit ready and getting him to day care.

That might sound simple enough, and I guess it should've been, but it wasn't ... at all.

Jeff and I have our routines in the morning about who does what as far as Biscuit is concerned. So when Jeff isn't here (which is pretty rare, luckily), things get a little more complicated. Add to that, I am a very routine-oriented person, and I gave birth to another such person.

Just for good measure, throw in the fact that I had a sinus headache and that Biscuit and I are still getting over pink eye. Nobody in our house was singing "Oh, What A Beautiful Morning." That's for sure.

Biscuit didn't want to eat his breakfast. He didn't want to change out of his pajamas. He didn't want his face washed. He didn't want his hair combed. He didn't want his teeth brushed. And he most definitely didn't want drops put in his eyes.

And quite frankly, for as much as he didn't want those things to happen, I didn't want to have to do them.

I was grumpy. I had no patience. I yelled at him a couple of times. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I just didn't treat him very well.

I don't want to get into all the details, but it took everything in me to get us both of us out of our house and him to day care and me to work. And then I sat at work feeling guilty about how I had treated him. I wanted to walk to my car, drive to day care and cradle him in my arms like I did when he was a wee-tiny baby.

The thing is, Biscuit didn't remember anything about our morning struggle. I got to day care to pick him up, and he said, "Mom. I'm so happy to see you."

I'm sure this won't be the last time that I doubt my parenting abilities, but I really hope these kinds of days are few and far between.