It's Monday, and y'all, I'm a mess today.
Easter weekend really kicked my ass, and this morning while I was talking about my weekend with my friend at work, I found myself muttering into my coffee cup "I hate holidays"
And even as the words left my mouth I was shocked by them.
I love holidays!
But I think having kids is ruining holidays for me.
No, wait, that sounded mean.
Kids make holidays so much more worth it...yes let's start there. Kids make holidays so much more worth it, because really, aren't like 99% of holidays designed entirely for kids?
I think Valentine's Day, Mother's Day and Father's Day are the only holidays that aren't primarily centered on making a child's childhood more magical.
And two of those three wouldn't exist if it weren't FOR children.
So it goes without saying that kids make holidays awesome. They're a great excuse to rekindle the child in you as you get all into making the holiday fun for the kids.
But kids also make holidays incredibly hard.
Saturday night, my dad were up until 2 in the morning filling plastic Easter eggs and trying to find all the best places to hide them, talking about how excited the kids would be to hunt them the next day, and imagining their little faces all lit up and precious, as wonderful family memories were made.
Of course it didn't exactly go that way.
The kids woke up at 6 a.m., and promptly discovered a box of marshmallow peeps in the kitchen. Jack-who was in a piss ass mood, sat down to eat them while Lainie woke me up. She was manic to the max and ready to go all Rambo on the house and yard in search of every possible egg.
Jack whined and complained and bitched and moaned about having to look for eggs, while Lainie had to be constantly reminded to leave some eggs for her brother to find.
Once the madness of hunting for the eggs was over, the insanity of the day began.
Between consuming too much sugar and being super excited that it was a holiday, the kids basically acted like jerk holes the entire day. The INSISTED on hiding their eggs ALL OVER AGAIN and making the other kid search for the eggs they'd hidden. Which of course go them all mixed up and made them fight over who's was who's. They chased and yelled and tormented each other, alternating between fighting and playing, play fighting and fight playing all. fucking. day. Until finally when it was bathtime I scrubbed them as fast as I could, threw their jammies on and sent them to bed ASAP.
I was exhausted, my feet and back were killing me and my kitchen looked like this:
|That's actually a picture of a kitchen from the show Hoarders, which gives me mad anxiety.|
Now today I was in a fog all morning, I'm completely exhausted and this is the first time I've sat down at my computer since Friday.
I love my kids, and I love holidays with them.
But I think the stress and pressure of hosting holidays with kids involved is just so crazy cakes, it's kind of making me dread holidays a little bit.
Am I the only terrible mother that feels that way?!