We all know that losing one's shit is a common occurence here in the M household. After the day that I had yesterday, I thought I'd share with you the following. They say that the "proof is in the pudding," although I beg to differ. I say "the proof is in the pictures."
It all started when Carter woke up at 3am and decided it was time to play. In our bed. A veritable parental jungle gym of sorts. Parents who were trying to desperately hang onto their sleep.
And it only got worse throughout the day, as Carter refused to nap, tired and crankily bumping into wall after step after wall. Crying, whining, fussing, clinging. It was just one of those days.
It culminated at the precise second that Carter decided to pull himself up on the wooden gate that we normally secure between the couch and the wall, preventing him from playing in the dog's water dish. Not only did he pull himself up on it, but he also decided he would play Tarzan and shake it violently.
The next thing I know? Both the gate and Carter are rocketing towards the hardwoods at an alarming pace. I hurdle over the dishwasher and manage to scoop C up just before colliding with the ground. Score one for Super Mom.
I also managed to get my foot caught up in the floor length curtains, entangling myself and yanking the both the curtain rod and hook straight out of the wall. C'mon. You wish you were this awesome.