So, you had a bad day.

Today is a bad mom day. A downright shitty one. Frankly, yesterday was too, but we’re going to focus on today. Every mom in the history of ever knows what I’m talking about when I say this. I’m often sarcastic about my life, which includes the comings and goings of my children, but today, the sarcasm is absent. Because today is a day I could really use a hug. Today, for some reason, the edge is a little nearer, and I’m closer to tumbling over it.


Let’s start with this morning, when despite the fact that my toddler went to bed past midnight, both girls woke up at 8am, a solid 2 hours earlier than their normal. I’m still sick and running on less sleep than I really honestly need to be able to kick this. I rolled out of bed knowing that they would be in a tired, cranky funk, and that I wouldn’t have enough patience to fully deal with everything effectively. They almost immediately started crying after getting their milks. It didn’t stop for 2 hours. I have a gnarly sick voice, so they’re hearing exactly nothing I say over the din, not that it would matter.

While they cried, at me, at each other, at nothing, at everything, they trashed things. Not in the way that children normally do as they play. An angry upheaval of our home, ripping things, smashing things, tearing up anything they had enough strength to break. While I tried desperately to maintain the calm and protect our home from complete, real destruction.

The baby crawled into the kitchen while I was wiping the toddler’s butt & ate dog food. And dumped the whole cat/dog water dispenser. Tons of water, everywhere. First things first, I had to clean up the babe. Then the mess just stared at me. Laughing cruelly at me. By this point, I’m near tears. I’m wet, I’m dirty, my already barely in check anxiety is threatening to explode. I’m not handling the day well. I’ve already yelled a couple of times. Loud, raspy, hoarse yelling. Like my neighbors judging me yelling. Which I remind myself of while I’m trying not to cry. Because that seems like the best strategy for falling apart.


In an effort to not relive the food and water incident, I load us up to head to Walmart for a baby gate (our fifth one, which now officially closes us in completely). It’s gone from 30 degrees to 80 in a week’s time, so we’re hot and bothered because we’re not used to the temperature. Not a great start. I get to Walmart (which is 3 minutes, and less than a mile, away), and while I waited for my Starbucks, the baby fell asleep in the car seat. We switched to a convertible this week, which means I need to wake her to go in or sit in the Walmart parking lot with a toddler for an hour or more. Not happening. So I go to get us out and realize I forgot the baby carrier because this was supposed to be a 10 minute trip. Cool, now she has to sit up & she’s tired. Recipe for disaster.

We get inside and she’s tolerating it. The toddler is in the back of the seat with her treat from Starbucks, a carton of chocolate milk… My hopeful tactic for remaining calm. It fails. While gate shopping, L gleefully decides that her $2 carton of milk should be sprayed all over the shoes we just bought her 4 days ago. I want to explode because this is becoming a typical behavior. Instead, I just tell her that she’ll stop receiving treats if she’s going to use her powers for evil. 5 minutes in, and as soon as I have stuff in my cart, L has to pee. So we trot all the way to the back bathrooms because they’re the only ones I’m willing to enter. We disembark from the cart (because it’s filled with a gate & I’m not about to get accused of trying to stuff a gate down my pants… #Walmart), without a baby carrier, which means I’ll need to hold R with one arm and help L get up, wipe, get down, and wash hands with the other. We get all the way into the bathroom, and L flatly refuses to pee. She’s laughing hysterically like she’s punk’d me. After some convincing, I give up. We go back to the cart, all buckle in, and go back to shopping. Repeat this entire process two more times. Complete with her refusal to pee. But what do you do with a toddler who has a very low tolerance for holding it?

By this point, I’m sick, I’m hot, I’m tired, I’m DONE. We check out and get to the car. I get R into the car, and suddenly L has to pee again. We’re 3 minutes from home and I don’t want to completely undo a car seat just for her to “trick” me again, so I take the risk of trying to make it home. Big, horrible, stupid mistake. She pees in the car seat. The one that just has to be hand washed, and air dried. Which takes two days. And we literally just returned the spare to my mom’s house LAST NIGHT because we didn’t have the space to store it at our house.


We’re home now, my patience so thin it could tear apart at any moment. L is dry. R is asleep in the crib. When L asked to watch “the Boovs”, I happily turned on Home in an attempt to zone out and regroup. Which is really the only option left, because I feel screamy. And also slightly like running away. There is no sarcasm that can laugh this day away, so I’ll just count down until my husband gets home. Or until bedtime.


Oh… And just now, as I was proofreading this, L decided to just stand in the living room and pee her pants while watching the movie, then proceeds to tell me we don’t have a toilet, so she peed her pants. Is this day real or am I having a nightmare?


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