I've had a hard time with this one.
Wyatt killed his fish.
I left the room literally for less than 4 minutes to watch a youtube video and when I walked back into the room the fish was laying on the table and there was peppermint tea in the fish tank.
I immediately started breaking down. I could have been in a movie--I threw my hands up in the air and yelled "Wyatt you killed your fish, you murdered it!" as I grabbed at my hair and paced the kitchen. It was a ridiculously fast and to the point kind of break down, the point being crying insanely with running mascara and dripping snot as a gasped for breath.
I really had no control over my self. It was awful.
I had flash thoughts of having a psycho killer as a son and I broke even more. I felt so overwhelmed with hormones, lack of sleep, the loss of this poor innocent fish who's last minutes on earth were in fear of my son, my loving, caring, cute, cuddly, brave, funny, witty, incredibly smart, smiley son.
The poor fish was afraid of him.
I was the worst mom for about 15 minutes maybe even 30 to be honest, ok honestly? Possibly close to 37 minutes.
I cried and cried and cried over the murder of a poor innocent goldfish yes, but also because of hormones, the lack of sleep, my blonde hair, my stretched out tummy, being a single mom, my entire situation. I'm so incredibly in love with my children don't hear me wrong, but I'm freaking out.
This is hard and it only just started.
I had envisioned this so differently 9 months ago.
I
I know it will happen but I'd like a date and time of exactly when.
I need to have patience with Wyatt.
He's a new big brother and that's hard I imagine.
My neighbor John says the fish killing was just exploration, boys will be boys. He told Wyatt he should only kill animals if he's going to eat them! Oh great John, thanks for that idea and the questions that will be asked later in the week.
I need to cut my self some slack. Owen is only 2 weeks old, my hormones are still all funky and blonde just isn't my color.
A little bit of change is needed.
