I'm a bad mom.

There. I said it.

I love my kids, really, I do. They are my world. I never felt my life held a purpose until I became a mother. That being said, I just want to go to my room and lay in my bed. I want to watch Netflix all day and moan and cry over my sore mouth (had 2 wisdom teeth removed... worst decision of my life) and my finger, which I sliced yesterday while chopping potatoes for supper because I was too lazy to use a chopping board. So you know what I did? I held the potato on my hand mid-air and tried to cut it up. Well, all that did was slice a chunk out of my finger.

I'm sorry, Rebecca, that I don't want to move from my sitting or laying position to play with you. I am in too much pain, but could you please pass me that pillow? Thanks.

My daughter is amazing, I am so grateful that she is such an understanding, intelligent little girl. Yeah, she has her moments, but over all she is so great. She can even get herself a drink from the fridge without help, which is good because when I am feeding the baby (which is often) the poor girl would die of thirst if she couldn't.

I feel tremendously guilty that I don't play with her enough. Here I am, home all the time, and I just wish someone else could come over and play with her so I can sleep, or just sit and stare at the wall while my head throbs from the pain.

And yes, the TV is on, and we will likely watch Disney movies all day long. I don't even care.

Don't worry, kids. Your real mom will return soon enough. And hopefully she brings her husband's wife back too. This house is a mess!