Since I became a mother there’s four different types of days. There’s really good days, normal days, bad days and really FUCKING bad days. On the really good days I start thinking another baby would be a great idea, their so cute and cuddly oh and that new baby smell, maybe just one more and yadayada. Then on the really FUCKING bad days when I’m close to pulling all my hair off, banging my head on a wall and wishing I could hide in a grave just to get some peace and quiet. Another baby? No, NOPE, I’m getting my tubes tied, removed and fucking burning them. Okay so maybe I’m exaggerating a tad, but you get the point – and just in case you don’t, it’s been a BAD day.
Now I’m going to wait for my greasy cheese burger which I will probably regret eating in the morning, but FUCK IT.
End of rant.