Some days, the babies that you would die for  just make you want to run away. These tiny people show no mercy.
The two year old, who chirrups away in a language all his own – punctuated by numbers and the random words of out of context English  that he has chosen to embrace- climbs the furniture and flings heavy toys to the floor, waking the baby that you have just spent the last half hour lulling to sleep. 
Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat. Round and round we go, like the endless episodes of In the Night Garden.
Last weeks weather, so sweet and warm and full of relief, which let the little one run around with no pants on, playing in the dirt, is replaced by a plunge back into winter, as is the wont of Victorian Spring.
Far from earth mothering, parenthood uncovered in me a deep impatience and temper, like a long dormant volcano. I had always been a relatively calm and quiet person, but 2 years of extreme sleep deprivation has sometimes unleashed this crazy temper that I didn’t know that I had. I become filled with utter rage and despair, so caged within a futile moment that I feel a desperate need to smash my way out. 
Don’t call DOCS. I bluster, I sometimes kick the bin or throw a pair of pants that Perry will not allow me to put on him across the room, and snap at him that he can go without pants today then!  but the babies are safe, I storm about and usually get them into the pram (both screaming, making me want to leave the pram there and go without them), and walk.
It generally takes about 20 minutes to calm down, depending on when Perry and Suzie stop screaming. The walk always brings sanity streaming back in.
(Chocolate is usually involved too.)
I remember how much I adore these two. It takes less than a smile to melt my heart. I stroke Perry’s silky golden curls, kiss Suzie’s downy forehead. There are many, many more good days than there are bad.
Tell me I’m not the only one who has these days?

Linking up today with #IBOT over at Essentially Jess