I had my second therapy session today. My therapist? Has twins, boy and girl. Age? 3-1/2. The same age as Boo. Needless to say, she had a lot of advice on how to handle Boo and The Bug. I plan on putting it into effect tomorrow and if it works, I shall share the wealth.
Of course, I came home to an absolute clusterfuck of my eldest daughter and That Canadian Boy I Married having a tizzy. O lied about something, I was angry at her and at TCBIM because he's never home and because he said "Well, if she can't be trusted to tell the truth about the children then you're just going to have to take them all with you when you go to therapy." Yeah. Because that would be really constructive.
He calmed down, I calmed down (O, on the other hand, went weeping up to her room - thirteen year-olds are drama queens) and he apologized for the remark. We're going to have to work out what happens on Thursdays, when I go to therapy, but one thing's for sure, I am not taking anyone with me.
I was going to do this damned meme that Hotfessional had on her blog. I spent fortyfuckingfive minutes finding photos and then hit a fucking button and erased the whole goddamned thing. Son of a bitch.
I'm going to have a glass of wine and I'm going to bed.