Tuesday, February 7, 2012

A Day

When I woke up this morning, there was no milk.  No cereal.  No eggs.  No bread.  No juice.  No fruit.  I could have come up with something, but nothing was working for me.  Pancakes must be accompanied by a big glass of milk, see.  So, the girls made peanut butter and jelly wraps with tortillas.  I had a cup of cocoa and some of the molasses cookies I had made last night.

The dog somehow grabbed my purse and chewed through the strap.  I was just glad he hadn't accessed the contents.

I went running for the first time in about a week (it had been dangerously icy) and my dang dog pulled me the entire way.  It is like two workouts in one--running and trying to teach my spazzy dog to heel.  

School was a flop.

My girls were invited to Valentine's Parties.  This is the first time they will get to hand out Valentines.  We usually make them for grandparents and friends, but this time they will experience a Valentine Exchange.  I am so excited for them.  (This is one of the hard things about home school for me.)  We found some cute ideas and decided to go get materials.

We are far enough away from town that I like to combine errands whenever I can.  We obviously needed groceries as well as pink and red paper.  I went through the newspaper and all of my coupons and made a plan.

I threw a frozen lasagna in the oven and turned on the heat a little lower than suggested since we would be gone for a while.

We went to the craft store first.  Knowing what is inside a craft store, I prepped my girls.  "We will only be buying the things on our list.  I know there are a lot of REALLY cool things in there, but we can't buy them.  Please don't ask.  We will wander around and look, though, because I know that is fun for you.  Everybody understand?"  Unanimous nods.

They were all perfectly wonderful.  My three year old was gathering things as we walked, but she was being very sweet and promised that she knew we weren't buying anything.  As we got in the check-out line, I explained that it was time to put everything back.  She slowly began to do it.  She had a little heart shaped box that was on clearance--one dollar and she had been so good.  I told her I would get it for her.  We bought everything and started to head out the door.  She started to resist.  I told her the box was in the bag and I would give it to her when we got to the car.  Inexplicably, she began throwing the biggest tantrum she has thrown.  Ever.  She was kicking (literally) and screaming (literally) all the way to the car.  She had her little back arched so far that I almost could have buckled her in her seat backwards.  I still had no idea what happened.  

There was a candy necklace at the checkout.

I couldn't believe it.  I finally tricked her into buckling up and we pulled out onto the highway.

She, still screaming and kicking, unbuckled.  Her big sisters are doing everything they can, but you don't know strong until you know a tantrum-throwing three year old.  I'm scolding from the front seat--completely ineffective.

I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store with my organized list.  You know that wasn't going to happen.  I talked her down.  Slowly, slowly, everyone calmed down.  We put her hair back together and put her shoes back on her feet.  I told everyone that we would just get the basic essentials.

Made it through the store with relatively little trouble.  Rang out the groceries and asked the girls to hand me my purse (I thought one of them was sitting on it in the cart).  No purse.  Because the dog chewed through the strap, I hadn't had it slung over my shoulder where I didn't have to think about it.  I had left it in the car which was on the far side of the parking lot.  

Cancel the order.  Plead with the girls to stay Right Here and I ran to the car.

Come back, re-check it all.  Pay and race to the car.  We are now late for another appointment.  

I hate being late. 

But, the three year old had worn herself out and slept in my arms through the whole thing.  

And, when we made it home, the lasagna was perfectly done.  I had picked up bread and greens and we sat down to a lovely dinner.  

Someone said "something really gross" so my eight year old couldn't eat.  She couldn't just tell me that, though, she had to fall apart and have a breakdown.  

I finished my dinner and turned on Netflix for the girls.  I closeted myself in my room and haven't left for two hours.  They have been in here, tattling, cuddling, crying, laughing, in turns.  

In the quiet, my three year old cuddled up next to me and said, "We're best friends, huh, Mom."  I loved her and talked to her about how important it is that she stay buckled in her seat.  "I know, Mom, but I just wanted to hug you!"  It was kind of true.  That is part of what she was screaming at me in the car.  

Some days it all works, but most days, some things work and some things, well, it don't.  And that's okay.  Because at the end of the day, everyone falls asleep.  And they are so beautiful when they sleep.  

Bedtime is a time of forgiveness.


3 comments:

  1. So true...they are beautiful when they sleep. Thanks for sharing the hard moments as well as those spots of sunshine in your day. So glad to know my kiddos are normal. :) And...glad your lasagna was perfect. :)

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  2. On the days when everything is going right, I try not to take too much credit. That way on a day when things aren't going so well, I don't have to take any of the blame!

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  3. Amen! Somedays are just "those kind of days" but when you tuck them in and see them asleep all the day's frustrations seem to leave- bedtime truly is a time of forgiveness- i love the way you put that Emily.

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