I apologize if this seems a little ranty. I might not even publish it after I write it, but sometimes writing things makes me process them, and therefore makes me a little less stressed.

Tuesday was a pretty great day. We got up, ate some pancakes, which I totally failed… tried to make something up on the fly. Usually I’m good with improvising pancakes, but I just screwed up the consistency and had to add Bisquick to them just to make them cook properly. At least they were eaten? Ha! Anyway, after that, we packed up to visit Hubby’s mom, who the kids haven’t seen in a little while. We had a fun time just playing and relaxing at her house, and EK ended up staying with her for lunch, while Hubby, J and I came home for lunch. It was a nice treat for all of us. When Hubby had picked her up, both the kids were so pooped they went down for early naps, and we worked in the garden while they slept. We the got ground ready for the third bed we’re starting, and weeded in between all the beds. It was great progress, and there’s just something that feels good about working with your hands in the dirt.

When the kids woke up, we played outside for a few, got nice and dirty, then came in for baths before dinner. Nothing out of the ordinary. Hubby cooked dinner (while I randomly felt really sluggish. Maybe the sun took it out of me?) and when we served, EK basically decided she was going to act like a one-year-old. She was trading bowls with J, eating with her fingers, spreading it all over the table, and not really eating much. After encouragement to eat like a big girl, pointing out how well J was doing, and even saying we’d go downtown to get gelato if she finished properly (glad J doesn’t quite understand that yet or he’d have been mad) she still didn’t eat much, and just sat in three different chairs for the last 8 or 9 minutes at the table. My hormonal self was totally over it. I know she can do so much better, and than made it even worse.

After dinner, we cleaned up a bit, and let the kids play in the kitchen while we were in there – they love that. J had an old baby food jar that I’d saved (I reuse them when I make my own food) and ended up breaking it… all over the kitchen floor. So, of course, we commenced making sure children don’t get cut, and the mess gets cleaned up, which really meant me vacuuming while Hubby kept the kids out of the way in the living room. Once again… totally over it. 

Finally, mess was cleaned up, and Hubby could get ready for work. Kids starting fighting over every toy in the room, so we sent one downstairs and kept one upstairs. I was trying to finish up the kitchen and start a load of laundry, and Hubby finds out he’s locked his keys and his spare key in the car he needs to pack with speakers, instruments, et al. Fabulous. We call the locksmith while I’m finishing up laundry, and I realize that at the bottom of the stairs (where we throw the laundry down) there’s water on the floor.

Water on the floor? Who cares? Me. Because right above it is the master shower. Which had been “fixed” during the renovation. Fabulous. Just enough water to make the drywall warp just a tad. So naturally, I just say, “Screw this day.” and turn on the TV so at least the kids are quiet till bedtime. I knew I couldn’t handle any other sibling arguments or tears because “someone else has the toy I want.”

Basically, I was ready to call it quits on life. Between motherhood and homeownership, silly mistakes like locking keys in the car aside, I was so done with dealing with things. I didn’t want to think any further about any situation. I wanted to zone out. Cue the time that I’d normally pour myself a bottle glass of wine. BUT OH WAIT – I can’t, because I’m so pregnant I can’t believe I forgot about it for a minute.

So, instead of getting even more frustrated that I was dealing with everything painfully sober, extra large and continually uncomfortable, I decided to say, “Whelp, shit happens.” and just move on. So I snuggled the kids up in their pjs, sent them off to bed – which, by the way, took over an hour total, which never is the case because my kids typically love to sleep. But hey, don’t forget my new motto: Shit happens. (Anyone else feel like it’s always the nights you’re doing bedtime by yourself instead of with your spouse that it seems to take the longest?) But about that time when I started to pull my hair out, wondering when the super-sleepy kids would let it go and go to sleep, my babysitter showed up! Oh yeah, I was going out tonight, with my sister-in-law, to hear Hubby play music! It was my night to put on a clean blouse, my wedges, and LIP GLOSS, Y’ALL! I was beside myself with excitement, so I handed over the monitor (which of course was quiet, because babysitter, right?) and got ready to go.

The reminder and the mood shift was all I needed to just relax and call it a day. I have to remind myself over and over that it’s okay to take a time out, to just call it. I need to be reminded that I don’t have to be perfect, the shit does indeed happen, and it’s even okay for me to get upset or cry about it. That just makes me human. Or maybe it makes me hormonal, but that’s me right now. It sometimes takes a the ability to completely leave the situation to get over it. I didn’t really think about it again after I was able to just move on and be somewhere else.