The last 24 hours of my life have gone down like they were straight out of a Ben Stiller movie. You know, the kind of movies where the main character gets crapped on over and over again and you just want to scream at the movie screen and walk out of the theater? Yeah, that's what's going on over here.
It all started when I realized around 6:00 last night that I left my school bag at my mom's house with my computer and lesson plans inside. A computer and lesson plans that would be very hard to live without all week. I felt awful about it, like I had really screwed up big time as a "working mom who has it together." That, I certainly am not, as the rest of my story will prove.
Next, we decided to make a late trip to the grocery store, which meant dinner was pushed back about a half an hour, which, in baby terms, is about a million years. Sylvia fell asleep on the way home, and when she woke up...woah, buddy, she was M-A-D mad! She was all, "WHY HAVEN'T I HAD ANY DINNER YET?" and "NO I WILL NOT WAIT HERE PATIENTLY UNTIL YOU WARM UP MY FOOD!" and "YOU EXPECT ME TO EAT THIS CRAP NOW THAT YOU'VE GOT ME ALL WORKED UP? I DON'T THINK SO!!!" I tried to shovel in a few spoonfuls of squash and rice cereal, but between bites she decided to spit it all back out and scream and cry and scream and cry. I took her out of her high chair and put her in my lap and she settled down long enough to finish her food, but it left me covered in pureed squash and baby puke. Mmmm, yummy.
We knew she was really tired, so after dinner we decided to put her straight in the tub and then get her to bed. While I was still covered in squash and puke, I reached into the tub to turn on the faucet and, wouldn't you know, I accidentally turned on the shower instead! So there I was, soaking wet, covered in damp squash and baby puke. Humph.
We finally got the babe in the tub, at which point I decided I was exhausted and I was not in the mood to watch her play for half an hour. Right after I scrubbed her down and got her all squeaky clean, she proceeded to POOP in the bathtub, which sucked for me, because I put my feet in the tub when I give her a bath (after I clean them, of course - bath time is a great excuse for a foot bath...until your baby poops on you, at which point feet in the bath are not such a good idea). I screamed for Sylvain, he came running, laughed at me, and helped me get her out of the tub before she got herself all dirty. He whisked her off to her bedroom and there I stood, still covered in wet squash and baby puke, ankle deep in poopy bath water. Not my greatest moment.
I tried to have a glass of wine to help me settle down while watching some of the Emmy's last night, but I was so tired I fell asleep on the couch. Luckily, Sylvia slept all night, so my story could be worse. I woke up this morning, still feeling overwhelmingly tired despite having had a good night's sleep, and decided I could afford to snooze for six minutes. Oops. Those six minutes would have come in handy when I was running about 15 minutes late, scrambling around the house to find my keys. I could feel the tears coming and I decided to look for one more minute before calling in sick to work and staying home with the baby. Sure enough, I found them and we were on our way.
I dropped her off at day care and sprinted to my car, then, as I sat down and put my key in the ignition, I realized I had lost the automatic starter key pad that my loving husband paid way too much money for. I was so late that I decided not to go back inside and look for it, I just started driving away and fighting back tears. I drove to the front of the church and was about to turn onto the main road when I read the sign that said something really simple like "God is good." And I took a minute right then and there to put my foot on the brake, bow my head, and pray. I literally dropped my head onto the steering wheel, closed my eyes and begged out loud, "Please God, just help me make it through the day. See me through to the other side of this mess. I'm yours. I'm handing you all of this stress and chaos. Please take it. I need you to take it." And he did, of course, because that's his thing. He saw me through this day, and although it was a long one and a stressful one, and all I could think about was my comfy bed and my sweet snuggly baby, here we are at the other end of it, none the worse for the wear. I got my computer back thanks to my wonderful stepdad, AND I got my key pad back because Sylvain found it in the bottom of Sylvia's carrier.
And I didn't get pooped on tonight. I'll take any small success where ever I can find it. From now on, any day that doesn't end with getting pooped on will be a good day. I'll be saying my prayers of thanks (and forgiveness) tonight!
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