Very rough morning today. I was already on edge from some other things going on. On edge, as in I lay in bed for 45 minutes willing some sort of rip in the fabric of the universe to happen so that I wouldn’t have to get up. On edge, as in I didn’t shower this morning and am wearing the same jeans that I had on yesterday. On edge, as in I don’t even care.
I guess either kiddo could tell I was out of sorts, or she was having her own internal dramas. She’d been up at 3:00am and then again at 4:00. Wanting mommy to find a particular paci and hold her just so and rock her just so and cuddle her just so and then cover her up, just so. This morning she wanted to go potty, but then she didn’t, but oh wait, then she did again. Repeat 20 times. She wanted to go left, oh wait, no, right, not really, left again. Repeat 10 times. She wanted the Pokey Little Puppy book. No, maybe Elmo instead. Ok, Pokey Little Puppy. Repeat 7 times.
She cried for an hour at home and then in the car. Crying so hard she could hardly catch her breath. Those deep chest rattling sobs. Mommy cried too. Silently, but raging in my head, things I’d never say out loud. Kiddo’s sobbing stopped a couple blocks away from salvation daycare. I looked back at her and the little booger grinned at me through red rimmed blue eyes. Gah. But then she started crying again when I tried to scrape dried and gooey bananas off her legs which was part of the breakfast she decided she didn’t want (my car has banana slices strewn everywhere, that’s gonna smell good later). Into daycare I trudge carrying kiddo, both of us a sniffling hot mess. Her teachers could obviously see how flustered I was and gave me kind words and hugs for my snotty faced toddler.
I got to work, took some deep breaths and decided to look at some pictures to remind myself just how good the good times are. And that I’m one of gazillion moms who struggle some days. But still, sometimes I don’t think I was meant to do this, don’t think I CAN do this. But I always do. Somehow.