This is why I doubt my mothering abilities.
The kids are horrible today. HORRIBLE. Fighting, tattling, crying over nothing at all (Noah actually cried today because we were laughing in the car, and "I'm hungry so I don't want to hear any laughing"). I've lost my temper with them, on average, of once every 15 minutes. I am counting the minutes until I can go home. Did they wake up and jointly decide, "Hey, this is Supernanny's last full day, so let's make she leaves in a straight jacket?" Or, perhaps, are my nerves more frayed because I'm sad that I'll be with them a couple of hours a day, and so I'm disguising my sadness as anger and irritation? (Hmmm...)
No, but seriously, I cringe at the mere thought of motherhood on days like these. The only thing getting me through the day is the knowledge that, in 4 hours, I'll be getting the hell out of here--for the WHOLE WEEKEND, even. And I get to do leave and go back to my kid-free apartment EVERY night and EVERY weekend. If I were sitting here, knowing that I would be here (and that they would be here) EVERY DAY, EVERY MINUTE, FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES--I do believe that I'd be sitting in a corner by now, rocking and humming.
As much as I love these kids--and kids in general--I do believe that I have a finite amount of patience each day and that such a limited supply thereby eliminates the option of parenthood. And I know some of you are thinking, "Well, it'd be different if they were YOUR kids, your own flesh and blood...." Nice thought, but I dont' think so.
I'm good with kids. I know this. But I'm only good with kids for, oh, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Much more than that, and I tend to get pretty bitchy.
Good to know.