A no-good, stinker-of-a-day...
It started out nice enough. It was a Friday and the husband was coming home from one of his many business trips. Even after plenty of experience as the wife of a travel'n man, I still find myself fantasizing about the perfect return home for Grant. In my little dream bubble, I'm having a fantastic hair day, the kids are in the best of moods, clean, and dressed in coordinating outfits. The day is full of hugs and snuggles while my manlier half regales us with tales of lands a'far. I present the most magnificent pot roast to the sounds of cheering from my adoring family. It's magic. The whole dream sequence only gets more elaborate and lovely with time because THIS IS NOT MY REALITY.
Grant returned home two hours behind schedule, thanks to the rare Texas snow that had begun that morning. Getting home late threw some of his work deadlines out of wack and just as quickly as he'd said hello, he was gone to his office. The kids, who had been eagerly awaiting a break from my face and wanting to see their dad, were more than a little ticked that I was declaring nap-time. The red-head, in particular, was revolting. Through the monitor, I could hear her tossing blankets, stuffed animals, and pacifiers from her crib in a rage. I then detected a grunting that I'd not heard before and my heart leapt. My body was already sprinting to her room before my brain could catch up. If her dad wouldn't come to her, she'd jump ship in search of her dad. There on her bedroom floor, I found my little cherub laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling in shock. Thankfully Hadley had landed on her pile of blankets and and stuffed animals, but I was far from comforted. How had I not predicted that, at some point, my tiny honey badger would find herself angry enough to execute the perfect front flip from the only place that had served to contain her? The era of the crib was over in that very moment and I grieved for myself as I saw what lay ahead.
When Grant returned home, he found me sitting with a vacant expression and a very satisfied-looking toddler on my lap. I shared my woeful tale and Grant agreed that Hadley could no longer be trusted in the crib. It was time to pull out the toddler bed...Hadley's symbol of freedom. We were, in short, screwed. As we set up the miniature-sized bed, we twittered like idiots to our daughter about "big girl beds" and "exciting times". Our smug child smiled a cheshire cat grin at us. Then the dance began. You, no doubt, know of the dance. We laid her down, turned to leave, and there she was, a ghostly figure in front of us. More than a little spooked, Grant put Hadley back in bed. We crept out of the room, turned the corner into the living room, and there stood a ginger apparition. This was very dark magic, indeed. Over and over, we tucked our sleepy girl into bed, only to find a wide-awake sprite in various corners of the house.
While foolishly hoping that I had just put Hadley down for the last time, I was summoned to the elder child's bathroom where he had "POOOOOOOPED!" Down the hall and through his bedroom I trudged. There in the designated boy bathroom was my child, bent over so that I could help wipe him.
"Mom, I peed a little on the floor."
"Ok, bud. Can you show me where? I need to clean it up."
"Sure, it's right here."
"Under...your hands? While are you leaning in a puddle of your own pee???"
"Becaaaaause you need to wipe me!"
I'm sure from there you can imagine a sort of crazy-eyed look plastered across my already beaten-down face. I was looking rough, friends! Fit for the loony bin! As I washed my hands and started to walk back through my son's room, I noticed dark spots dotting the carpet. Dark brown spots.
"Bear? What's that?"
"I don't know."
(After getting on my hands and knees in a more dignified fashion to get a whiff...) "It's POOP!"
"Ewwwww!"
"Bear? Whose poop is this?!?"
"Oh yeah, that's right. That's my fault. I had some poop hanging from my bottom when I called you in here. Whoops." (Y'all, he actually said "WHOOPS"! Cue blood pressure spike.)
No sooner had this conversation ended, did I hear "Hi Mama!" from the hallway. There stood my pint-sized Houdini, newly escaped from her bed. My vision was quickly filling with red. I plopped her back in her room, far from caring if she used her nap-time to sleep or fashion a shiv. I returned to Barrett's room with cleaning supplies and got down to business. I noticed that even a beloved stuffed elephant had received a visit from the mysterious poop fairy. And the spots seemed to have made a straight path to the bathroom. In slow motion, I looked down at my left Ugg boot, which had a lovely brown schmear across the heel. Horrified, I realized that I was the poop culprit! I had tracked one, seemingly harmless, dingleberry across my son's entire room. It was me! In the haze that followed, I vaguely remember wrenching my foot free from the contaminated boot and screaming the most preschool-friendly profanities possible. "Oh man! Darnit! I'm so frustrated!" I like to believe my heart knew what I truly wanted to say.
And that moment, I knew my day was toast. I had officially made it to that scary tipping point where I tend to shove my head in the pantry, inhale stale marshmallows, and snort a maniacal sort of laugh where there is absolutely nothing funny going on. As I charged through the living room with my one trusty boot still on, I happened to look out the window. Remember I said it had snowed that morning? Well in a true Texas miracle, the snow was still on the ground! And in an instant, it called to me. It begged me to bundle up my one and three-year old and get them out to experience the beauty of winter at its finest. In that moment of clarity, I understood that there have been and will continue to be plenty of bad days to go around. But a Texas snow was the perfect reminder that there is always a way to make a horrible day beautiful again. And it really did. Watching their eyes widen as they stepped outside into a winter wonderland and kissing their chubby cheeks, pink with the cold, redeemed my no-good, stinker-of-a-day. The little girl would eventually learn to sleep in her new bed. And the boy would learn to be less of an animal in the bathroom. What mattered was our sweet moment in the front yard with snowball fights and belly-laughs.
There is always a Texas snow in your day, if you're willing to look for it...
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