Alligators Got Me.

There's a saying: some days you eat the alligator, other days the alligator eats you.

Today, the alligator devoured me. I've been feeling so upbeat lately, I guess the pendulum was due to swing the other way. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, despite the awesome news that my little niece Alora was born earlier this morning at the exact hour and minute when Alex was born: 4:27am. Maybe I was in a funk because I missed the big moment. I was still in bed when all the bad shit started happening. The cat scratched and bit the hell out of my elbow, making me bleed, Todd and I argued, most of the glasses were still filthy in the dishwasher thanks to crappy detergent, blah blah blah. Then to top it all off, Alexandra fought like hell when I put her down for her nap.

I mean, screaming, ugly crying, hysterics. And no, not from me. It sucks listening to your kid cry like that. It was also driving me insane. I wanted to punch the pillows on the sofa, I was getting so aggravated. And you know, I hollered at her. I had gone in twice to try and soothe her and the second time, I was just so mad that she was freaking out for nothing, I yelled "Alex! Stop. Crying!!" and instantly felt like an idiot, a loser, a horrible mother. First off, I fucking hate it when I'm crying and someone tells me to stop. Oh, wow, thanks, that made everything better. Also, NO, I won't stop crying because I don't fucking want to.

So what comes out of my mouth? Stop crying. And loudly, exasperatedly, meanly. I had to set her down and rub my face, trying to rub the rotten off, I guess. Calmed down, back in control of myself, I held her then, soothed her best as I could, even though I felt so wicked, and so undeserving of her. I got her to lie down, to calm down, got her sleeping. I closed the door of her room and just felt completely wrecked, all by my own actions and behavior. I hated myself.

It sucks because motherhood doesn't pause when you're having a bad day. Alex spilling vitamin water all over the table, the dog eating catshit and smearing a disgusting mixture of litter and slobber all over his bed, buying $87.48 in groceries and having $86.50 in your wallet, Alex bonking her foot into EVERYTHING and crying dramatically every single time. All of that keeps happening, and you still have to be a mom. A GOOD mom, too, not a dickhead who yells "Stop crying!!" at her two year old. I have a headache now, and I feel sort of like I deserve it.