Friday, June 7, 2013

Scribble, Scream, Pasta's Mean.

Today was a horrible day.

The kind of day that leaves you wishing you could dive head first into a black hole.

The kind of day where your kids end up in bed at 5:45 blinking at their ceiling,
that is still lit up from the sun,
wondering how they can possibly fall asleep when they can still hear birds chirping outside.

The kind of day where after you put them in bed you lay flat on your own bed with the fan blasting you and you pretend,
just for a second,
that it's blowing chloroform at you and you'll soon be blissfully...... un...aware......

That kind of day.

It started out alright,
but by 9:00 I realized I'd already been thinking of a nap for over an hour.

Not a good sign.

The girls fought
At one point, Tessa bicycle kicked Chloe's torso and screamed like a banshee because Chloe was about to tattle.
Hours later, Chloe stabbed at Tessa's arm with a mechanical pencil.
Paige threw a fit I will most likely remember for the rest of my life over PASTA.

As in - I tried to give it to her (sue me) and she didn't want it so her eyes glowed neon green and she turned to stone and I looked up numbers for exorcists
kind of fit.

Who throws a fit over PASTA?
Pasta is loved the world over.
Practically half of Eat, Pray, Love is about it, and I'm pretty sure that was a best-seller.
Pasta is known to cause actual chemical reactions within your body releasing comfort hormones.

I'd say it's one of the most ridiculous reasons to cry EVER, actually.


By the time I gouged my shin on the dishwasher door and almost immediately slammed my pinkie in the silverware drawer I had HAD it.

My body went into auto-pilot mode and I did some weird mime move, shook my hands violently in front of my face, almost said some "naughty words" in front of my kids and then I stormed out the front door to sit on the porch.

I'm stressed today.
I'm worried for someone I love.
I need way more hugs than I get.
And sometimes you just don't want to be the strong one anymore.

I was having a major pity party on the porch.

This was no cute little Georgian porch session sipping sweet tea and smiling at no particular "thang."
This was a scene you'd take one look at and tell whoever you were with to avoid eye contact with "that lady."

I rarely have days like this, actually.
Usually I can laugh it off.
Usually I can keep going and put it all on the back-burner while doing crafts out of dowels and flower tape.

But not today.

Today I wanted to scribble and stomp and scream.
Today I wanted to kick a can.
I want to dig things up and stomp on something crunchy.

Today I wanted to just be MAD.

So I sat on the porch fuming.

And I looked out at the world.

And I realized how small the frustrations I was having were.

I started to soften.

Time passed and I thought and I went back inside.

Still frustrated enough for the 5:45 bed time.

Still frustrated enough for laying on the bed and the fan and this blog.

But, as I lay on the bed and felt the blowing,
more than air hit me.

I thought of some people I know who just lost their baby.
A pain that cannot be fathomed or stormed away.

I bet they would love a fit over pasta.

I thought about the truly lonely people.
The ones who don't have "I love you, Mama. Fum Chloe" pictures littering their desk tops, or the hilarious Tessas narrating their days.
How it might seem great to have the quiet and the alone time, but how really -
The silence of loneliness would just about deafen you.

I thought about how I could POSSIBLY be frustrated at Chloe who nurtures me, even though I'M the mom.
At Tessa who makes me laugh a hundred times a day.
At Paige who's version of the word "Octopus" is enough to melt me into the inability to ever be frustrated at her ever again.
Possibly even enough to last me through the teenage years.

Actually everything I have is amazing.

There are things I am frustrated over that some people would LOVE to have.

Today I took Alena to a doctor's appointment and while she was in the room, a nurse came out and literally spent 20 minutes MOONING over Paige.
Saying she was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. EVER. She actually used the word. She was seriously enamored.

At the end of the 20 minutes, she mentioned that she only had "fur babies."
That she'd never had kids and she just thought I was so so lucky.

And I thought - "Dude. Do you want her for awhile? I'll just go out for a bit. I'll leave a snack and an Elmo book or something. She's cool."

It's all about perspective.

It's about gratefulness for every day.

Even the "horrible" ones.

My most horrible one is a walk in the park to some people.

So now I have decided I'm OVER IT.

Happy is a choice and I'm making it.

I have a home.
I have food.
I have beautiful children who are healthy and awesome, and possibly smarter than me.

The last thing I need is an imaginary horrible day.