Pass the wine, please.

This whole week my heart was repeatedly ripped to shreds as my daughter sobbed every night at bedtime, saying things like:

"I don't get to see you."

"I just want to play with you."

"I just want to stay with you."

"Please don't leave me alone."

To shreds, people. There have been a lot of tears shed. Hers, mine, it's all a blur of mascara and boogers. So I was especially looking forward to this weekend, knowing that we had absolutely nothing to do except soak each other up. Dada is on call all weekend, we have no obligations outside of dance class, it's nothing but Girls Girls Girls having Fun Fun Fun, right?

No.

The whining started about 30 seconds after I entered her room, because I was sharing her pillow and she wanted it to herself. So I laid my head on the foot of her bed instead, which was no better because she didn't want me there. I curled up on her stuffed dog on the floor, at which point she wailed because she no longer had the opportunity to curl up on him if she so desired. Welcome to my day. 12 hours and counting of mama trying desperately to enjoy the day with her beloved daughter, and said daughter finding an endless number of ways to stomp all over her poor mother's fragile psyche.

One can only hope that Sunday will be better...