All my fault

It is all my fault that Stella is hungry.

First, I wouldn't buy her food while we were out at the dentist despite the numerous restaurants in the vicinity. Horrible bitch that I am, I said we had food at home.

Once home, Stella was heating up her lunch. It is one of those nasty banquet lunch things that the kids think are the bee's knees. To make one you have to heat, remove plastic, stir, replace plastic, heat again. She did the heating part. She was otherwise occupied so I did the rest, leaving it to finish heating. She then removed it from the microwave and dumped it all over. This is my fault because I didn't tell her I'd removed the plastic at the corner. Apparently where the plastic film is removed is key. Who knew? (Apparently, I should have known. I am omnipotent, didn't you know?)

It is also my fault that she cannot possibly eat any other thing in our house.

Feel free to rant and scream at me, Stella does. It is most obvious that I have failed as a mother, caretaker and human being.

Just wait until I make her do school work in a bit. Oh, the horror that will be unleashed will be worthy of a scene from a B-rated zombie flick. I'm sure that torture technique classes visit homeschoolers to see how to make their victims lives a living hell. They could probably get some pointers from the aforementioned lunch scenario too (at minimum, those banquet lunches - after a few of those, anyone would relent.)

At least I have to work tonight, which means in 3 short hours, I will get to escape from these walls to a place where my actions are more dictated (maybe) but at least no one yells at me there.