I made the mistake today of telling someone I was having a good...even a, ahem, normal day. Since that moment, the day spiraled down into teeth-gritting screams (only mom's can scream between gritted teeth) until I sent my kids to bed with the promise 'mommy will be better tomorrow'.
I can only hope sanity returns before the need for prozac kicks in.
The problem with this at-home-mommy-thing while trying to have a career as a writer is you stretch yourself so thin you can almost see through the illusion (if you're really good, not many other people can). Also as dh isn't here to remind me, I forget to eat...or to care about eating...except for cookies and I don't think they count. So now I'm going to eat something out of the fridge that is green (and supposed to be), I'm going to watch the evening news and I'm going to breathe. If, in an hours time my heart-rate has returned to basal and my jaw has unlatched itself, then I might try to write.