Sundry wrote a post today about having a bad parenting day. I think my comment sums up what I wanted to post about today quite nicely:
God, I was just telling the ladies at playgroup this morning that I had one of those days last Friday, and it left such an ugly SOUR taste of bitter regret in my mouth that I felt a tiny bit down about it all day on Saturday, which was the girls’ birthday.
I yelled at them on Friday so loudly and furiously and out-of-control-ly that I hurt my vocal cords. And then I ordered all three of them to their rooms, where I then proceeded to swat each of their butts once as they walked by me, cowering.
I loose my temper a lot, but this was soooo… extreme, considering the offense(s). They were just mildly bickering, a soft static undertone to the entire day (school canceled due to storm), and I suddenly couldn’t stand it for one more second.
It still makes me sad. And, though every other aspect of being med-free has been wonderful, it makes me wonder if I *DO* need that stupid effing zoloft after all.