One of THOSE days

The other day I thought it was going to be a good day. Things were going so well that I was going to write about it so I could remember, on a bad day, that it's not always like that. I was proud of myself for being attentive to my childrens' needs, coming up with creative crafts to do, and juggling the feeding and the dressing and the napping and the entertaining and playing without too much stress and without "blowing my lid."

And then naptime happened. Or, rather, didn't happen. It's an acute source of tension these days, between me and Punkin. It has, as I've commented today, the potential to take a perfectly good day and turn it upside down, sometimes leaving all three of us in tears. There's so much tension and emotion in the house that the dog nearly leaps into my husbands arms when he gets home...

So anyway, naptime - it ain't happening and there's a lot I could say on the topic but today I'd rather focus on those good things, the things I meant to write about before life took it's prescribed 3 o'clock nose dive.

First, there was the craftiness. We started making Valentines for Punkin's preschool class and he learned to use scissors (!) for the first time. He's very talented, and very proud of his new skill. And it's a good thing we had plenty of paper in the recycling bin for him to make confetti out of because he spent a good 3 hours cutting. But I'll write more about the Valentine's later - perhaps a new post complete with pictures and resources and all that good stuff.

The creativity extended into the kitchen, where I managed to cook up a healthy lunch with all the random bits of food I could gather from the fridge and the pantry. And THEN I nursed Auggie and pumped and managed to eat a few bites of food....ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Now some people out there probably do this on a daily basis, but for me and Auggie this was something akin to climbing to Mt Everest base camp (summitting the peak would have required cooking and nursing at the same time, and I doubt I'll ever get there). Auggie and I have had our issues when it comes to boob time, including two minor surgeries and a lasting addiction to prescription nipple ointment. Somedays are so bad we have to bag breastfeeding all together. And this little act of multi-tasking wasn't exactly pain free (and I'm sure our lactation consultant would cringe if she heard what we'd been doing). But we all got through lunch in one piece and that's all that matters.

So after a morning of accomplishments and an hour or so of yelling and stomping and negotiating and some tears (i.e. naptime) I should have called it a day and sacked out on the couch till the hubby got home. But instead, I let my slightly caffeinated brain take charge and as I went from dolling out the days vitamins to looking for my calendar to looking for the computer I happened to notice the stroller....outside....in the rain....with Auggie's Bundle Me getting sopping wet....the one we usually have in the car seat to keep out the damp and the chill that is Seattle in February. SOPPING WET. Wonderful. So I head outside to retrieve the blanket and as the door clicks behind me I have this sudden feeling of deja vu. Because this is the second time in the three years we've lived in this house that I've locked myself out of the house with my baby inside.

So you'd think this would be yet another moment of defeatism and tears. The options weren't appealing: bang on the door and hope that Punkin would let himself out of time out and actually figure out what all the shouting and banging was about; or drag my sorry ass over to the neighbor's, again, and have to admit I was, once again, a moron and a negligent mother. As I weighed my options I stared at the ground and scrutinized a fist-sized grey rock, partially buried in the dirt. It wasn't an exceptional rock. It looked like it belonged there. We had plenty of rocks just like it all around the yard. But on a hunch a picked it up, turned it over, and nearly peed my pants with joy: it was the missing hide-a-key we thought we'd lost last spring. The one we actually accused the contractor for losing (sorry Mark!). It was one of those rare moments of pride and joy, but with no one around to witness just what a genius I am. Like the time I convinced a gaggle of cold and whiney 2-3 year olds to race each other from one end of the playground to the other.

I spent the rest of the day reminding myself how brilliant I am...because it's better than dwelling on being monster mom at naptime.