Karma. Please.

Whew.

Yesterday found me wanting to rescind my parenthood membership.
Unsubscribe.
Retire.
Fold.

Pack it in. Skip town.
Hop on the bus Gus.

Not fun.
At all.

Little did I know that yesterday morning's discussion with daughter-formerly-known-as-lily (and no, today she gets no caps) regarding whether or not Santa Claus uses mouthwash would be the loveliest, kindest, most thoughtful exchange of the day.

Would have savored it more.

Instead, a birthday party that began with calming focused yoga but topped with an icing loaded cupcake was the precursor to a very unpleasant afternoon.
In my shell-shocked recollection, the decline began with a discussion over afternoon scootering and it just
plummeted
from
there.

My exhausted threenager, a term someone generously shared with me recently, became an ornery, out of control dervish and I thought I would loose my mind.
I may have.

Admission,I did.

I'd like to rent a parent.
Just for a week.
Not a day, a week.
For consistency.
Someone to back me up. Massage my shoulders. Say go get some air.
You're Mother's Right.

They might also say:
You look fucking awesome today.
or
I like you. (Thank you Laura)
But those would be optional.

What
Is
That
Like?

The co-parenting thing.
Support from a room-mate.
In house counsel.

Even if it's not all it's cracked up to be, it's got to be good sometimes.

Sweet Relief.

And now I must snap out of IT, recharge, reboot, buck up, buckle up and jump back in.
Block out the bad, focus on the good.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Repeat.

Focus on The Good.
It's there, I know it.
Just not feelin' it
today