I'd like to pass on some great advice I garnered from the latest edition of "O" Magazine. They have a columnist, Lisa Kogen, who mentioned that one of the methods she uses to pick herself up when she's having a rough day is to ask herself, "Is the name Darfur anywhere in my address?" Great advice that I quickly put to use.
Like at 4:30am this morning when Jax woke up in a fit, crying for 15 minutes before figuring out how to break the child-proof doorknob and let himself out, attacking me and dragging me back to his bed. "At least I don't live in Darfur," I mumbled.
Or later this morning when not even 90 seconds after breaking up a fight, spending much needed cleaning time soothing and smoothing things over, the ruckus began all over again. "At least I don't live in Darfur," I thought, as I pivoted on my foot and headed back to the scene of the crime.
And this evening at the grocery store, when Jax was biting Ryan's back while pulling her hair, causing Ry to scream bloody murder at the top of her lungs, that nice little turn of phrase really helped me stay calm.
That, and the iPod I had blaring in my ears.
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