One of those Sundays. One of those Sundays spent recovering from Saturday. Did we go out? No, we did not. Crazy party at our place? No no no. Just… Noah. Noah had a bad day on Saturday. So bad that I had to cancel our special Mommy-And-Noah time (we were going to the opening of this) at the last minute, the very last minute, I mean, our ride (Oma) was already at the house. So four massive tantrums later, he passes out on the beanbag in the glaring sun (west-facing room) at 5.30pm. I also threw a tantrum. One of those “I have NO life outside of my children, I can’t even go to a GODDAMN GALLERY OPENING” tantrums which ended in my throwing every item that belongs to children into a pile in the playroom. Take THAT, stacking-toys! And THAT, small button-down-shirt-I-just-painstakingly-ironed-even-though-I-hate-ironing! Sigh.
So Sunday was damage control, making sure this was just an “incident” not a “phase”. I’m still not sure. Friend Shaun came over for BBQ and gossip and the demolition of the England team. A perfect ending to a perfectly shitty weekend. Phew!