I made a decision a couple of days ago to give up soda.
Like all together.
Because every six months or so, I decide that.
Then, one of my clients called and wanted to know if I could drop some Coke off at her house, so I did, and I brought a 12-pack home with me (because they were 3 for $9 and she only needed 2).
I wasn't going to actually drink any of it, it was for Husband.
But then, when I got home from church, I needed a slug.
Isn't it sad that I feel that way after church? Like I've just barely survived, hanging on by my fingernails, and I need something to get me through the rest of the day.
If I wasn't a Mormon, I'd have fixed myself something slushy. With plenty of alcohol.
The funniest thing about it is that today's class wasn't even bad. Sure, there were several outbursts from the kid who always has outbursts and yes, Husband (who graciously stepped in because the other lady is still out of town), may or may not have threatened him with physical violence, but other than that, it was just a bunch of talk, talk, talky 3-year-olds who didn't listen to any of my instructions as all 3-year-olds are bound to do.
It didn't help matters that I was feeling particularly hot and dizzy, and thought I might have to lay down on the floor for just a few minutes to regain my equilibrium.
Good gravy, help me.
2 comments:
Pregnancy made me hate other people's kids (and it hasn't improved a whole lot since giving birth...). I'm not sure I could accept a child-related calling while pregnant and not smash heads together the whole time. Or just sit there and cry at the injustice of everything in life that brought me to that cruel moment. When I was working at my boss' church a couple nights a month in their nursery, the only thing that kept me from beating children was the constant reminder to myself that I was going to be paid.
My hat is off to you, dear woman.
It makes me so happy when other women admit that sometimes, they just don't like other kids. It makes me feel less guilty!
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