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Saturday, Sept. 29, 2018 - 6:28 a.m.

You know, the thing with my kids. We work so hard to please them, to give them a good day, and then something ALWAYS happens and it’s ruined. Yesterday, trolly ride to get late lunch, then I came home and made the cake, made it with U and then he and J decorated it and then presents where his uncle did that “villains have stolen some presents and have left clues for you to find them” thing that has become a tradition. It was all delightful.

But then. We gave U a small present that a) M had wanted and b) U didn’t. And ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. There were meltdowns inside meltdowns. From both of them. Long story short, she ended up trashing our room, damaged a new beautiful book J had gotten me for my birthday. U spent some time screaming at me to throw everything away, and telling M to kill me. He told me to burn myself up.

Later he told me today would be happier.

J pointed out afterward that in the end, she mostly just threw clothes around. Nothing was really damaged but my book. He encouraged her to apologize. She refused.

I still feel bruised and sad about it. I’m starting my birthday by crying.

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