Last Sunday, I reached my boiling point. What started out as a lovely day with the kids ended with me yelling at them and everyone (including me) in tears.
Looking back, I realized that the main issue wasn’t the one that broke me—which for the record was Rowan dunking both hands into a can of paint and then rubbing it all over his body and our stuff.
Stress is like a block tower. It’s not the last block that’s the issue, but the combination of little instabilities as you build it.
The issue started 3 hours earlier. We were making pompoms at the Swedish embassy (because why not?), and I set up the pompom makers wrong. Instead of just throwing in the towel for my sanity, I unwrapped them all and reset them up for each kid. My energy was zapped. Looking back, as soon as I sensed myself stress around the pompoms, I should have just stopped. Who really cares if we have finished pompoms?