I Love My Life Some Days

The reason I started this blog wasn't to be read, necessarily, but basically, to just vent a little. Read back over it. And feel really dumb later. Here's the catalyst:

Yesterday, Carter lost his marbles at the library because they have a 20 minute time limit on the game computers (something three year olds not only grasp, but advocate) and it turned into a showdown out the back door (which is a very long way away from the kiddie computer area).

I put Carter in time out outside so I could hopefully at least go back in and pick up the textbooks I had on hold. Didn't happen. He told me that he was the grown up and that he wasn't going home with me. I said fine. He started crying and told me that he had his own car. My maturity beat out my feelings of head exploding, so I challenged him to go ahead and find his own way home. This made him cry more. "But I don't know how to start the car!" Exactly one hour later after a real time out and dinner, I felt stupid about the whole thing. If only I hadn't needed those damned books. Which I still don't have. The look on Carter's face when he thought he was destined to try to find his own way home makes me ashamed of myself.