Reflections of My Father

We're home again.

But not until after I reached a stage five mom meltdown on the car ride home.

I yelled.

I mean, I really yelled. People, I yelled so loud and so hard that not only did I strain my throat, but my ab muscles actually hurt.

And yes, I hate myself for it. Of course I do. We were on vacation for over a month. We had a great time. We made memories. We drove for 22 hours in relative ease, and then we had to end it with me having a complete fit in the car.

My kids have had just about enough of each other. I've had just about enough of their fighting. And I fear that I have completely turned into my father.

I also fear that years from now, the thing that they'll remember most about that summer that dad was deployed was mom completely losing her shit in the car. Because when I think back on my own childhood my clearest memories are of my father losing it in the exact same way.

Damn it all.

There are exactly eighteen days until school starts.