Today was a rough day, particularly so this morning. The house is in a bit of disarray from the weekend, and that always tends to put me in a funk. I felt the urge to get some stuff done before we went to my parents' house at 11:30, but the kids were begging me to play with them and I felt guilty not heeding their requests. Plus, our day started off with Baylor calling me into his room at 7:05 because he had picked a hole clear into the gel of his diaper and it was starting to go everywhere, so his sheets and blanket and sleepy-time pals had to be washed before we left. And I wanted to get bread made. And I wanted to wash my clothes so I would have something to work out in tomorrow morning. And ... and ... and ...
At 9:30 I looked at the clock and sighed, thinking to myself, "Two hours?! How can there still be two hours until we are supposed to be over there? Ugh, I wish it was time to leave already!" And right then, as I was putting away dishes and internally complaining, I thought to myself, "Nicole, how can you wish away even two hours of your life? You are alive only this once ... you shouldn't wish time away from that!"
So today I am grateful that, while mired in a really cruddy moment, I was able to appreciate even just the fact that I am alive. It might be basic, but I felt it deep down and tried so hard to carry that with me as I made my way through my foul mood.
Just a little while later Mollie had a potty accident while I was upstairs trying to get their clothes and sleepy-time pals gathered up. I sprinted downstairs to help her, not realizing where the bulk of the mess actually was. So ten or fifteen minutes or so later, when I discovered her starting to push Sally's stroller through the puddle, I yelled at her to stop and back up and get to the living room. "Please, Mollie," I said to her, "don't come near here until I tell you it's okay. I have to clean this up." Her pajama pants that the accident had occurred in were really long and dragged a lot of the mess down the hallway, so it took more time than I had originally expected to clean up the mess. It also took more rags than I was expecting, and at one point I had to stop and get more. When I returned, she was starting to push Sally through the mess again, and I barked at her even louder, "Amalia! Get into the living room now! What did I tell you?!" Angry at myself for yelling at her and upset that the morning was going so poorly, I got back to mopping it all up as fast as I could. Quickly, though, I noticed that Mollie was balled up on the living room floor crying.
I had made my girl cry.
Putting down the cloths, I made my way to the living room and scooped her up. She was sobbing, and in no time I joined her. I apologized up and down for yelling at her and tried so hard to let her know that it wasn't her fault, that it was all just an accident and that Mommy was having a rough morning. It took a little while, but eventually I got us calmed down a bit, and eventually everything was okay. All day, though, I thought about what I had said and how angry I'd been and felt so upset that I had said what I said in the way that I said it, in that voice I hate hearing coming out of me ... and always in the worst moments. I tried to make it up to her by being extra loving and extra affectionate, but it didn't feel like enough. How could it? I had made her cry.
But at the end of the day, as I was walking over to turn off her light, I looked back at her and she said, "I love you, Mommy," and smiled her sweetest, happiest smile.
So tonight I am grateful that, in spite of my atrocious behavior and foul mood of the morning, my baby girl will still love me.
Have a wonderful night!