I was bitten by the Anger Bug last night.
It snuck in when my baby was unsettled and I was trying to burp her and ssh her and soothe her. I had lost track of how many times she had needed me and I was running out of energy.
The Anger Bug saw an opening.
It sank its devilish teeth in for a good, deep bite.
Suddenly infected, I was angry with everyone and with everything and for every reason.
The dark was red. The night was red.
The moment was cooked.
With my daughter safely in her cot, I raged at the Bug.
How dare you bite me and make me lose it! How dare you steal my patience! How dare you take advantage of me just because I am tired!
I confronted it with a verbal parade in my head.
I filled the room with silent curses, with woe is me’s, with how dare you’s, with swear words, with resentment, with dishes battles, with cooking scorn, with general housewifery I’ve had enoughness, with undone to-do lists, with drudgery and with stolen sleep. I made a list of anger-making things that marched and tripped and clapped like thunder in the dark.
And this! And that! And this! I fumed.
But the Anger Bug scurried off just as my baby burped.
She farted and the crying stopped.
The night was black again. I rolled over, forgot my rage and went back to sleep.
Love Katrina (Outie)
PS. It was fun to write a little story that ends with a fart.
I find that it helps to write things down.
It also helps to know that every parent loses it sometimes. Never put your baby in danger and always put them down safely (so that you can go away and enjoy an adult sized tantrum without harming them). X