They say that a good mommy keeps going, even when sick. Even when it feels like the devil himself has stomped on their head.
I guess I’m not a good mommy.
I’ve caught Brendan’s cold and it feels like my head is going to explode. I blow my nose and a river of snot flies across the room, having torn right through whatever tissue I’m using.
All I want to do is climb back in bed, pull the covers up and say good night to the world until my head reduces back in size to what I consider “normal.”
I’ve ignored my children for two days, relying on the Nanny to tend their immediate needs.
I’ve tried to be a good mommy. I’ve tried acting like I care if they eat or get a bath or do more than play with the coloring electronic they got for Christmas.
I’ve failed … miserably.
Just shoot me now.