Friday Failure {a letter to my daughters}

picture courtesy of someecards

Dear Daughters,
Friday was a failure of Epic proportions. It wasn't your fault, not even a little. It wasn't your fault that Mommy and Daddy stayed up until one in the morning. It's not your fault that the football game didn't end until midnight. It's not your fault that we didn't get home until 12:45. Which you may have noticed is an ungodly hour when you have to be up at 6.
It's not your fault that Mom missed her 6 am alarm, and snoozed until 7:15. It's not your fault that her eyes burned with the previous nights mascara. That her head ached from lack of sleep. That she did not want to make a lunch, pack a back pack, or tie shoes.
As you could tell from Friday morning Mommy was on a rampage. Running late, her own doing. Tired, her own doing. Royal bitch face, yelling and screaming about being late and tired, also her OWN doing.
I apologize that getting to school seemed like an adventure. That Mommy only got more frustrated when she realized she was out of gas. Then fell a little further off the edge, when she realized her card was in her other wallet.
I apologize to you both for the failure that was Friday. I hope that you know that I am really sorry. I hope that me telling you both on Friday how sorry I was supplied the proof. I hope that you understand that Mommies are people too. We make mistakes. We have temper tantrums. We need time outs too.
I did get a time out on Friday. I got a nap. I ate a meal. I took stock in how far I've come as a mommy that I had  confidence in myself to hit the reset button on a terrible day.
So I did what any mommy in my position would do. Panda Express for dinner. I let you watch brain rotting TV for the remainder of the day. And we enjoyed an almost quiet, scream free night.
Because even though Mommy is very sorry about Friday, she still has to pretend she's got it together.
XOXO, Mommy