Days like this always seem to come out of nowhere, have you noticed that? After Claire went to bed last night, my husband and I were talking about how good she had been all day. Pleasant, happy, charming, playful, and ate up all her dinner. I woke up this morning, got my shower, and came out of the bathroom to the sounds of her crying on the monitor. I should have known then that it was going to be a day. She almost never cries when she wakes up anymore. She will spend anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes babbling away happily in the morning before she gets a little fussy and I go and get her up. And yeah, my kid likes to sleep in. Usually I don’t get her up until around 8am. This morning she was crying in bed at 7:30… Not complaining because I know plenty of kids who are bright eyed and bushy tailed at 6am, but it’s fair to say this is unusual for Claire.
No fever, no runny nose, no telltale signs of being ill. I’m guessing it’s teething, as she has a few incoming teeth, but even that wasn’t obvious. She was just pissed off. Cried over having to wait for me to make her pancakes, cried over the Cheerios I gave her while she waited, cried at the fact that I was trying to address an envelope to stick in the mail while she ate said pancakes. God forbid I don’t give her my full attention while she eats her breakfast.
Now here comes the part where I failed today (as a sidenote, I am in major PMS mode, so my level of patience is at an all-time low right now. I’m not in a bad mood per se, but I’m also not feeling like a saint at the moment). I couldn’t take all the crying, as Claire continued throwing a fit after I let her out of her highchair. So I went into our spare bedroom, closed the door and sat on the floor; I needed a time out. Claire is yelling “mommy!” “mommy!” throughout the house, and after about two minutes I open the door and let her come in. She sits in my lap and snuggles me for a minute, and my heart melts and I feel instant guilt.
Until she throws tantrum #376 about fifteen minutes later. As soon as I’ve gotten myself put together enough for the day, with an almost-toddler at my heels incessantly pulling at me and fussing while I do my best to ignore it, I decide we should go for a walk. As I get Claire changed and out of her pajamas, fill up her little snack cup, get the dog’s collar and leash on, my dear child follows me around the house screaming and crying at me. I can’t take another minute of it again, so I go into the laundry room, shut the door and sit on the floor. Mommy needs another time out. While I take deep breaths and try to count to one thousand (I made it to 11 I think?), I hear “momma!” “mommy!” “momma!” on the other side of the door. Jiggle jiggle jiggle goes the handle. I count to twenty. Open the door. See a very mad and upset baby looking at me. I don’t say anything but walk through the baby gate, get the dog ready for the walk, get us all into the garage and we take off for the walk. Claire doesn’t utter a single peep the entire time, so I keep walking. And walking. And walking. And because I live in Florida, I start to get hot after a while and finally head home.
Luckily it is 75 degrees and sunny out today, so we played in the backyard until her nap and that also seemed to distract her from her crappy mood. And I have to say, enjoying my back porch this morning helped to calm me down too:
Now you might be thinking, that doesn’t really sound like a parenting failure to me, but believe me when I say inside I felt like an utter failure. From pretty much the moment my daughter woke up, I wanted to bring her to her dad at work and take myself to the nearest day spa and pay for the most expensive mani/pedi I could get. I keep envisioning handing her off to her father when he gets home so I could go shut and lock the bathroom door and take a bubble bath, or, you know, just lay on my bed staring at the ceiling and doing absolutely nothing. I’ll be honest and say I wanted to scream a couple of times this morning, which made me feel like a monster. Sometimes being a parent is just so, so hard. And other times it’s the greatest gift, on days like yesterday when Claire was an absolute delight. Ok, being a parent is always a gift (I still can say that even today), but it doesn’t always feel like it. Let’s be real. Today just feels like I need a solo vacation, with cocktails, spa sessions and absolutely no one that depends on me to feed them (that includes my husband).
So while I sit here typing this, eating my daughter’s Gold Fish crackers on my lovely back porch and praying Claire takes a three hour nap and sleeps off whatever funk she woke up in, I’m going to count to fifty (thousand) this time and push “restart” on the rest of my day. If all else fails it is socially acceptable to start drinking in about four hours.