Last week, I had my hardest day yet with Hayden and Violet. There was a doctor appointment followed by grocery shopping and the baby was crying and Hayden was whining and Hayden had to pee while we were at the store, and then he had to go again ten minutes later, but wouldn't go and instead hopped around the whole store on the brink of disaster. Back in the car, he had a temper tantrum and Violet was screaming and I was near tears myself. I called Neil to see if there was any way he could come home early to take Hayden to swimming because I didn't think I could do it. There was no way he could get home in time, so I started calling my friends on my cell phone on the drive home, hoping somebody could talk me down before I had a nervous breakdown. I didn't have reception long enough for a complete conversation with anybody. I finally made it home (after getting stuck in road construction traffic for twenty five minutes and almost getting in a car accident on my street), and got the groceries put away and the baby fed and Hayden changed and sunscreened, and everyone loaded back up to go to swimming. I was beat down. I was defeated. I had never had a harder day in my life. While Hayden was in his swim class, I walked around the park with Violet in her sling, swaying back and forth to calm her down. I looked down at my little baby girl who was finally not crying, and this is what I saw...



Trust me, that was no accident. She meant it. Nothing compares to having a six week old tell you to F off.