I lost my shit this morning

Which is my least favorite way to start the day.

In my defense, I did not sleep well last night. My mind was racing and my husband was snoring and my little one woke up and needed a snuggle and when I climbed into her bed I discovered her water bottle had leaked all over the sheets so I ended up soaking wet and when she finally fell back asleep I crept out to the couch where I couldn’t hear the snoring but my sweet, senile dog kept walking around the house like a restless spirit, her long nails clickety-clacking on the hardwood floors. Also, we have crickets. There’s a whole colony of them the front porch but occasionally, like last night, I hear them singing inside the house. I can never quite figure out where they are — in the walls?

Anyway, I was more tired than usual this morning. Not that it’s any excuse.

Last night while reading Real Simple I came across a great piece of parenting advice that said something like, “Don’t be the thermometer, be the thermostat.” It took me a minute or two to grasp this idea, probably because we don’t have AC. But then it clicked and I was like, “Oooooh, I get it. Set the temperature. Be the calm. Keep your cool . Yeah, man, I dig it.”

I started the morning off with great hopes of tapping into the deep well of calm within me (something I also read somewhere long ago that struck a chord in me but in reality has made no difference in my ability to cope) and referee a peaceful start to a lovely day. To keep my cool. To be the thermostat. Then one thing led to another and I threw a pair of socks at my seven year old. Not tossed, hurled. Then stomped out of the room in a huff.

Not my finest moment.

I need to do more of this. (Photo by Robyn Breen Shinn.)
One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.