You're a hot mess, mama

I had a really bad day on Saturday.  Like, really bad.  I haven't had one that bad in a long time.  Aside from not feeling the best, a nearly two year old who will not stop throwing herself on the ground and kicking and screaming for up to an hour, I also have a very moody, and very clever 4 year old.  Oh, and I got my period the next day, so all the tension and anxiety and just foul mood that I had going on was largely explained the following day with it's arrival.  But whatever, that didn't help me on Saturday when I was losing my god damn mind.

Evie is out of control.  I spend the 25 minute drive to daycare with her screaming the whole way, for one reason or another.  I spend the 25 minute drive home with her screaming because she wants crackers or some other snack.  The minute she gets in the door, she throws herself, or melts herself out of my arms and screams and kicks for eternity.  Now I know I'm prone to exaggeration to make stories a bit more interesting, but this kid is out of her mind.  But only at home, and only with us.  Someone misinformed her that this was a safe choice.

Layla's hit or miss.  She's been doing pretty well lately.  Elba is in Columbia for a month and doesn't come back until Tuesday, so they've been with a woman and a handful of kids that they've never been with.  She's done great, but the lady likes to tell me how many "sensitive" moments they have over the course of the day.  Meaning how many times did she overreact or get weird when corrected for something minor.  Yes, clearly she has some issues dealing with feelings, as evidence by her nails chewed down to the quick.

Anyway, the topic.  To start crappy Saturday, I actually got to sleep in.  But I must have been sleeping hard because when Layla came in the room when I was getting up, she took one look at me and proclaimed that "you're a hot mess, mama".  And with daddy right behind her declaring "uff, she sure is", I couldn't really check her little ass.  Plus it was funny.  The only funny of the day.