You would think that a Tuesday would serve us much better than a Monday. Today proved otherwise. I realize that our week is jammed packed with not much wiggle room. We are so tightly scheduled that one little misstep could derail the entire week. That misstep was today.
I got up at five. To prep food and lunches, to make sure I was showered and make-uped for work and a seven fifty a.m parent teacher conference. Before seven this morning I had baked six pieces of chicken and 12 Paleo pumpkin muffins. I was on a roll, rinsing dishes because of the smell, and taking out the trash. Just about six fifty I woke up the girls.
Chaos.
Caitlin had a headache and stomach ache last night. That tends to happen after a weekend of binging on fast food and ice cream and cake. Between going out of town and then celebrating two birthdays on Sunday, her body and tummy had had enough. Add in the fact that crying before seven in the morning is on the short list of things that drive me bat shit insane. So I was already sparking with a short fuse. Also Daddy had an important meeting he had to leave for at five this morning. So here I was, trying to get everyone dressed and ready to get out the door in time to make the parent teacher conference.
But the more I pushed and prodded those littles to get out of bed and get dressed, the more they cried and carried on. So I resorted to yelling because that is what all good mothers do when they are desperate and balancing on the tightrope of morning mid life crisis. The yelling only made matters worse, and then when I realized that the chance of Caitlin going to school today was slim to none, I broke out in a cold sweat because I was without child care. Remember that schedule I was talking about? Well my mother and mother in law's schedules were just as tight. Add in Dad already on the road, mom due at a meeting and then at her actual job, and I was ready to call it a day.
Instead I called my mom. Oh, Linda. The Patron Saint of Mothers. I actually said, "Mom, None of us can even". I ranted and raved about all my goings on and then she said calmly, "Just bring them to me". It wasn't even seven fifteen. So we all went to grandmas, with teary eyes and scowls, where we were met with a smile and open arms.
On the way to the Parent Teacher conference the guilt set in. I'm pretty sure my daughters felt like Mommy was mad at them. I'm pretty sure they felt bad about that. I could see it on their faces as I kissed them goodbye. As usual I wasn't mad at them, I was just mad at the circumstances. This week is scheduled within an inch of it's life. There is no room for sick days or forgotten lunches or as luck would have it, running out of Nutella. We don't have room to be late or early or to "skip" it all together. So I was mad that I couldn't just stay home with the kids myself. I was mad the Hubbs couldn't do that either. I was mad that I had to call my mom to bail me out, again. I was mad that my conference had to be so early in the damn morning. I was mad that even though Mackenzie had school, I let her stay with my mom, because she cried because it wasn't fair that Sissy got to go to grandma's and she didn't, and I didn't have any fight left in me. I literally couldn't even if you paid me.
I made it to the conference. Straight A's. Best Behavior. Have a nice day. It took all of ten minutes. Then I made it to work, and that wasn't so bad either. It wasn't until mid day that I realized why I was so upset this morning. Why I get so upset every time.
Because I had this morning by the balls. I was ready.
I had made muffins for fucks sake.
And then, as quickly as I was struttin' my stuff,
I fell, flat on my ass.
I think that's as close to defining motherhood as I'm going to get. The day wasn't the worst. It would have been nice for it to have run smoothly, but it would have been nice if I would have found a million dollars today too. We don't always get what we want. But can I just say that if it could go to hell in a hand basket today, it did.
Of course I let every single bump in the road get to me. It's my own wavering confidence that makes me run to the edge of life and threaten to jump. Because in the thick of it, I revert back to that other Megan, white knuckling the sides of the ledge, trying to survive one day at a time. I forget, in the moment, that I've grown. I've learned. I've survived. Some days are easier that others, sure, but motherhood is still a battlefield. And you can bet your ass I'm still fighting.
So that was today. Unfiltered. Unedited. And surprisingly enough, not a Monday.
