I hit the wall. My daughter, Ella, was two and I slammed my palm into dry wall. To keep myself from doing the unthinkable, I put a hole in the wall of my hallway. With my hand.
She had screamed for what seemed like hours about her breakfast. The breakfast she had always eaten before. The breakfast she had asked for.
No one tells a momma how to keep from loosing her mind when plates and waffles and peanut butter and syrup hit the floor.
My worst momma moment? Possibly? I’m sharing my heart today with The Moms Magazine, and I’d love for you to head on over to read more–to know you’re not alone…