When I would write about them, I would specify what kind of day it felt like, whether it was a "Brady Bunch" day where even the fighting was all in fun, or a "Simpsons" day where it felt like he was Homer and Teenybop was Bart.
Now that he's not here, it's all me. Instead of at least being thankful that two ropes pulling in opposite directions kept me up, I have only her rope, pulling me right over in the dirt. She and I fight often because we are so alike. I see all my flaws in her and I hate them because they are my own faults. If I was a better example, she would perhaps not be so grouchy. She might not be so messy, so disorganized. So flighty, so absentminded. So combative. So impatient.
So human.
My last post was on Saturday. Saturday was a white day, all sunshine and roses. We got along and the day was peaceful and even a little bit quiet. There were few moments of frustration, and when they came they didn't last long. They passed quickly into oblivion and as I kissed my daughter good night, I was giggling with her because when I leaned down to kiss her forehead, she turned her face up to meet me and I ended up kissing her nose. I was even a little sad that it was bedtime, because everyone hates to see a great day draw to a close. Sunday was good too.

I hate when people annoy me specifically because they know how to. I hate when people hurt me because they know what will hurt me. I do not like to be manipulated, especially toward the negative.
I am hoping that we can salvage the afternoon and have a great day. Because I hate Homer days, when I'm angry and impatient and grouchy. I want the Brady's back.