Some Days Just Kick Your Ass.
Once upon a time, I ran marathons. I thought I was a badass. (Hahaha!) Once upon a time, I spent seven days a week in a ballet studio with my feet taped up in a pair of pointe shoes. I thought I was invincible. (Oh, I’m funny!) Once upon a time, I worked in the male dominated field of construction. I thought I really knew what stress was. (I crack me up!) Motherhood. That’s the real marathon. That’s the real pain. That’s the real stress.
I tried so hard to keep my positive attitude today, to not roll my eyes, to not shout “Are you kidding me right now?!’, to not mumble “For the love of God!”, to not bury my head in my hands and pretend that the world was slowly disappearing.
Today was gym class day. It is the toddler’s absolute favorite day. I love watching how excited she gets just thinking about going to gym class. I love seeing her grow and gain strength and confidence every week. I try to absorb every moment of it. It makes my heart warm; however, getting there on time makes me want to beat my head against the wall. I started out good today. The infant woke up to nurse at 7am and the toddler arose from her bed around 7:45. Everyone got clean diapers and clean clothes. The toddler got her milk and we split a donut. (Don’t judge - sometimes you just need to start your day with a donut.) I put on my makeup and even managed to use a flat iron on my ponytail. That rarely happens. Before I could blink it was time to nurse the infant again and then everyone got another clean diaper. I packed up the diaper bag, put the infant in her car seat, grabbed the toddler’s hand and out the door we went. We were doing great! I hooked the infant into the car seat base and started installing the toddler’s seat in the car. (After several times now I’m getting pretty good at it. We only have one and we’re constantly moving it back and forth between our cars. It’s a pain.) I notice the toddler is being rather quiet and still. Hmm. As I pick her up to get her into her seat the unmistakable smell of toddler poop hits my nose. This would be a prime opportunity for me to roll my eyes and say “Are you kidding me right now?” But I didn’t. I took a deep calming breath and calmly asked “Did you poop? Do you need a clean diaper?” She sweetly answers “Poopy. Momma need change diaper.” So, everyone out of the car, back into the house, diaper changed, back outside, back into the car, buckled into the car seat. We’re still doing good. I still have time to stop and get gas. (I’m nailing this! No negativity today!)
We get to class early and I start to get the girls ready for class. This means I have to put the infant in the complicated front facing carrier with 10,000 straps. I HATE this baby-wearing carrier. I probably should have spent a bit more money and bought a better one but it works for once-a-week use. I get it strapped on me and put the infant in. As I’m buckling her in and tightening the dozens of straps I realize the top strap and most important strap is missing. Again, deep breath. There’s only two places it can be: 1) in the diaper bag or 2) in the car. Well, it’s not in the diaper bag so I leave the toddler under the protective watch of one of the other mothers and head back to the car with the infant in my arms. The strap is nowhere to be found. Normally this would be the perfect time to mumble or perhaps shout at the top of my lungs “For the love of God!” But I don’t. I simply walk back in the gym, thank the wonderful mom for watching the toddler, put the infant back in the carrier, cinch every remaining strap down as tight as I can get it, and pray we make it through this class unscathed.
The day continues with more and more of these little incidents. You know what I’m talking about. The little things that shouldn’t really bother you, the nuisances of life, the physical manifestations of Murphy’s Law. They just kept coming from the dipping sauce packet splattering all over me to the toddler throwing a piece of chicken to the dogs which caused the three of them to have a serious fight to the infant’s teething causing her to puke all over me to my left boob leaking, flowing like a rushing river onto the pillow while I miraculously got to take a 30 minute nap to the toddler getting her toy dump truck stuck in my hair. It’s just life and I am NOT going to let it get me down. It’s the small stuff and it doesn’t matter. (Look how good I’m doing at being grateful, thankful, positive, and above it all.)
And then it happens. The final straw. And it surprises you. You weren’t ready for it. Everything was going so good. The husband came home and was sitting on the edge of the couch talking to me while I sat on the floor with the infant. The toddler was crawling all over the husband, so excited to see him, that he was home from work. And there it is. The sippy cup that you meant to take away from her earlier but forgot because the infant started screaming due to the pain of teething. That blasted sippy cup ends up, somehow, between the toddler’s knees and the husband’s back. Watered down lemonade goes down his back and onto the blanket. The husband is angry. He’s had a long day at work and wanted nothing more than to come home and talk to his wife, play with his girls, and unwind a bit. Instead, he is now sitting in watered down lemonade and it was his final straw for the day. And now I’m angry. Angry that he couldn’t just let it go. Angry that I forgot about the stupid sippy cup. Angry that I’ve made him angry. Angry that both of us are angry over something so stupid. Angry that I’ve made it this far into my day without getting angry and now I’m raging. Everything is flat out ticking me off. The dogs that won’t move out of my way when I’m trying to walk past them. The infant that keeps crying and crying simply because I can’t hold her right this very minute. The toddler that is trying to sneak her macaroni and cheese to the dogs. The husband who has left the room to calm down. The iPhone that won’t unlock with my thumb print and takes FOREVER to bring up the number pad so I can unlock it. The pacifier that magically flew out of my hand and bounced under the couch. Angry. Angry. Angry.
Somedays motherhood is a serious struggle. Ok….MOST days motherhood is a serious struggle. Somedays you keep it all together for an entire 24 hours. Other days, you’ve completely lost your calm and your sanity and your ability to roll with it by 9 o’clock in the morning. No matter how your day is going, you’re doing a great job! Now go put on your comfy pants, pour yourself a giant glass of wine (or if you’re more like me, make yourself a giant margarita) and hide in the closet or the pantry or wherever your hiding spot is, and remind yourself that you’ve got this. It may not always be pretty. Sometimes it’s downright hideous. But those little hellions are the greatest gifts on the planet! Puke, poop, spilt beverages, and all.