Needless to say I forgot to mention this plan to my two year old the night before, otherwise I'm sure he would've woken up cheerful, cooperative and without a snot-faucet for a nose.
Makeup never got put on, the bathroom never got scrubbed, the laundry (still isn't) folded, there were no eggs for the cake and my two year old chose this day for his violent-towards-his-sister debut.
When I got the cake out of the oven it crumbled in my hands. But I'd be damned if I wasn't going to get the icing on it. At that moment, with the cake falling to pieces under my tears and the store-bought icing, my son came up to me and said 'Mmmmmm, mama! I want to eat that cake!" To him, it was the best cake he had ever seen. Thats when I gave up. I let him put the candles in it and decided it was time to move on. Because really who cared about the house being clean, my wearing makeup and the cake looking perfect?
You know, what makes parenting so hard is our own expectations. If I could just figure out how to get out of the damn way and let life happen, it would really be much more enjoyable. I have no idea how to do this, but I am determined to start trying and stop judging myself in the process.
|get a load of that cake!!! hahaha|