I yelled and I screamed on more than one occasion. I lost my temper and my cool and of course, I regretted it immediately.
On the third attempt at a nap, I sat and cried while holding my son. But only after I had plainly stated to him that I was so mad he wasn't listening to his Mama, as he started up at me with those huge, bright blue eyes.
I begged and pleaded with my 16 month old to please. just. nap.
Earlier in the day, I forgot to run the most important errand on my list because I was in the middle of having an argument with my husband via text message in the parking lot of the grocery store. I was seeing red so terribly that I lost all train of thought and drove straight home.
I cursed. A lot.
And then? I blamed him for making me forget to run the day's most important errand. It wasn't his fault. But I needed to blame someone.
Today, I was not the best wife either.
I should be thankful that these kinds of days really only find me few and far between but that doesn't mean that when they do sneak up on me that they don't royally suck. I can't stand when I'm knowingly acting like a lesser version of my best self. My nicest self. My most patient self.
I hate these kinds of days and I'm hoping and hanging onto a shred of wishful thinking that tomorrow will undoubtedly be better.