Not my finest hour

I'm only posting this because I hate to read those blogs or forum posts where the parents are always holier than thou and always have the right answers and do the right thing. I messed up today and wanted to put it out there. It has been a rough weekend so far. I have my period. Sorry for TMI, but it seriously effects my normally laid back, everything is going to be fine attitude. For this entry, please totally disregard my my husband is such a wonderful guy entry. My husband is still working on completing the baby's room, so he is consumed with that today. It started last night with our trip to Home Depot, and his not wanting to ask for help, and the jerk of a "customer service" person who had to condescendingly answer any of the questions my husband finally did ask him about the outlet box he needed to get. In my head I kept saying, "Let me hear that tone ONE MORE TIME BUDDY and I was going to calmly (only because the children were present) tell him to shove that outlet box right where the stick that was effecting his attitude must have been lodged. I hate going to Home Depot with my husband when the trip has a purpose. Now, I'm in a mood. And of course, I'm totally proactive with dealing with this. You know...sulking, with a puss on my face, and short mono-syllabic answers all the way home. I go to bed hoping to wake in a better mood. Daylight broke, and it was promising. Hubby got up with the dog and brought the baby (still in our room) down with him so that I could sleep later. Very appreciated especially since said baby was up at 4am for a little nosh. So I got to sleep until 8 am. The very fact that 8am is now sleeping in is still problematic for me. I go downstairs, have a very big cup of coffee, say good morning to the girls and silently say a prayer to be able to keep my patience today. Didn't go so well. Part of what annoyed me last night was that I told my husband that I wanted to go to the Conair factory sale today, and I wanted to go see my grandmother who just came home the other day after being in the hospital for a week after having a major chunk of colon removed. Nowhere in that conversation did he tell me he was going to need my help with the room until I ASKED him, "are you going to need my help." And why did I ask? Because I knew that he was going to expect it in the morning while I was trying to get out the door and then it was just going to be a bigger problem. So I figured I would just cut my losses and ask. He was going to need my help. OF COURSE HE WAS because WHY would he be able to do any of this by himself??? I can take care of everything else that needs to get done, including the girls when he has these projects AND help him at the same time, but he can't do any of it by himself.?! In my next life I really really REALLY want to come back as a husband!! So I help for 1/2 an hour. Well, that's how long he said it would take. However, all you wives out there know that in order to convert "husband" to real time you have to multiply by at least 2. In the time that I was helping I'm silently listing all the things I too need to get done today, that just don't seem to be important to anybody else but me AND dealing with a whining 3 year old who seemed to wake up this morning with the sole ambition of pushing me to my very limit. Now, I know that she is not doing anything on purpose, and I know that she is 3 and her crankiness and skutchiness is a direct response to our not being totally accessible because we were working on the room...I KNOW all that. Didn't make it any easier. I really really really tried to keep my temper in check and not take it out on her. I really tried to tell myself, "you're not yelling at her because she did anything wrong. You're yelling at her because you are in a FOUL mood." I kept trying to not take it out on her and I was doing pretty well-deep breathes and all. I was finally able to get the 3 of us (me and the girls) ready to go to the sale and asked husband to come move his truck as he was parked behind me in our driveway. He asked if I wanted to switch strollers. I said yes and he took the big one out of my truck, put the smaller one in, and put the one he removed from my truck on the front porch. Now, I'm sitting in my front seat waiting for him to get in his truck to move it so that I can leave. And I'm sitting, and sitting and sitting. Now I start thinking, "He didn't forget. He couldn't have possibly went back inside forgetting to do this." I get out of my truck, walk into our porch and into our house. Yup, he forgot and was downstairs sawing the bead board for the baby's room. I just grunted, "You have GOT TO BE F'N KIDDING ME!!!" I open the basement door and yell down. He can't hear me. I stomp my foot on the floor and yell and he has the nerve to yell up with an annoyed, "WHAT?" I just started crying, "I asked you to move your truck!!!" Now, I'm about ready to have a full blown melt down. I get in the truck and start to cry and my 3 year old, bless her heart asks, "You otay mommy?" I try to pull it together, but it wasn't even 2 minutes into our ride that she starts whining, "Mommy, I want to hear punkin patch. Punkin patch mommy!" (Pumpkin patch is the Charlie Brown Christmas song they play on the radio now that was played on the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown Thanksgiving show that is in constant rotation on our TiVo) I explain she has to wait until the radio man plays it...not good enough...continued whining and whining and whining. I broke and I yelled at her to shut up. As soon as I said it I wanted to crawl in a hole. She told me not to say that because it wasn't nice. I feel horrible for saying that to her. Just horrible. I know there are a ton of worse things I could have said to her. I know there were a ton of worse things MY mother said to me. That doesn't help me to forgive myself. After she reprimanded me I told her she was right and I shouldn't have said that. I apologized and she said, "It's otay mommy." God, I love that kid! And I hope to be better tomorrow.