The time has come where my two year-old has officially started hating me. My God, it’s intense. It’s almost like I can do nothing right. Putting him to bed has become a struggle lately. Afternoon naps have been swept off the menu entirely. If I try, he just throws a tantrum. Inside, all he wants to do is jump, run, scream, and play with the loudest squeeky cars, almost as if he knows that our downstairs neighbor hates us for it. When we go outside, he doesn’t move an inch. He may throw another tantrum. For two years, I was his favorite person to read a book with. That has officially changed, too. No way he wants to read a book. Not with me. Mom is his new favorite. But he’d even prefer reading with a pillow. In the morning, he wakes me up with a tantrum, because he wants to sleep where I’m sleeping. Or have breakfast at 5am. Or whatever. I’m not sure what it is, maybe it is that stomach flu he had? Something is still bothering him. Something is also still bothering me. I needed a weekend under the covers, but instead I got a weekend filled with fights, and I almost feel worse than Friday. I’m utterly exhausted. My brain feels sucked dry. I feel like a horrible parent. Having kids, isn’t it wonderful…?