The worst day of motherhood...

Are you ready for this? Today I have seriously had the absolute worst day of motherhood I've ever had. It probably doesn't help that I'm pregnant and easily irritated as it is, but things just got out of control today and I've spent the majority of my evening in tears.

Let me begin by explaining that Cale turns 2 in March and is well into his "terrible twos." He loves to hit, head butt, throw books and toys at me, and arch his back and fall to the ground. It's probably my least favorite thing in the world.

Today when I got off work I decided to have a fun day, so I took Cale and my niece Cheyna to the local indoor kids play place and they had so much fun. The terror started when we got home.

Cale spilled juice and soda all over the entertainment center (where the PS2, Wii, DVD player, and dish reciever are...) and thought it was hilarious. When I cleaned it up, he got another glass and did it again.

Soon after that, I smelled that he had a dirty diaper but he refused to let me change it. So he sat in it for a while, until he came up to me with a handful of poop. (I am pregnant and the smell of his poop is the WORST. I nearly puke every time I smell it.) Nate was at work and I was the only one who could clean it up. It was horiffic.

After that he continued with his hitting, throwing, head butting etc, until it was time to meet Nate for dinner. I thought getting him out of the house would help his attitude. WRONG! He was a complete terror in the restaurant, throwing himself on the floor, climbing out of his high chair, not listening to a word I said, and screaming bloody murder if I tried to control him. So I left Nate at the restaurant and took Cale home before either of us finished eating.

The whole way home I bawled my eyes out. I honestly have never felt hatred toward motherhood the way I did tonight. I felt like my child hates me and didn't know why we were going through it.

Lucky for me it was Cale's bedtime when we got home. But of course it turned into a nightmare.

I laid Cale on the floor in his room and tried to get him ready for bed. OF COURSE he had a sick crappy diaper again, so as I'm changing him the smell is getting to me and I instantly (no warning whatsoever) blow CHUNKS everywhere! -- It was ALL over me (my hair, my clothes, my legs...) ALL over Cale, all over the rug in his room, and worst of all, all over "NyNy," his security blanket which goes everywhere with him. There was NO way he was going to bed without that blanket but I had no choice but to throw it in the washer. He threw a bloody fit while it washed, and in the meantime I am still bawling and trying to wipe the puke off of us.

Cale finally went to sleep, I think we were both drained.

But I am a wreck. I'm laying in bed, smelling of dried vomit, with absolutely no energy in the world to take a shower. Cale's bedroom reeks of puke. It's a wonder he can even sleep in there. My hair is crispy from the barf. I have the headache from hell. I'm feeling all of the worst emotions in the world, and hoping that typing this will make it better. Who knows. For now, it just makes me feel guilty. I feel like an awful mother. Punishing him does nothing except make me feel like the bad guy. I yelled at a toddler. Who gave me that right?

Sometimes I wonder why I chose the responsibility of parenthood. I'm failing miserably.