Sometimes we just need to rant

Today started out just like any other day. The typical 7:30 wakeup. The typical morning grouchiness from a certain toddler. The typical snuggle/bobby/blankie time.

Then I made a mistake.

I decided to run to a couple of yard sales to do some bargain hunting. My sister Hannah met us in Garner, where the sharewear and yard sales were that we were planning to go to. Along the way, we picked up some Chick Fil A for a little breakfast. About a mile from the Garner church building, Brooklyn gags on a piece of chicken, and promptly does what she does best. She vomits. She covers her beloved blankie in vomit, and about half of her car seat as well.  Lovely. Well, she pretty much missed her clothes.

I TOTALLY had it under control. We're familiar with vomit at this point. We used up a pack of wipes, used a plastic Target bag from the trunk, and we're good to go.

Next stop: the first yard sale of the day (turned out to be the only yard sale). As I'm sifting through some cute-ish toddler clothes, the kid finds a nasty piece of old candy stuck in a toy they had out. Sick!

SO not happening!

Cue tantrum #1

After I had paid for and grabbed my finds, we decided that we would head over to watch daddy's next softball game in Clayton. Afterall, we were closer to daddy than we were to home at this point. Why not?

Cue tantrum #2 ... the entire 25 min drive to Clayton (plus the stop for gas, because we had been running on empty this whole time). Mommy had a tantrum on the way as well. There's only so much screaming you can take...

By the time we got to Clayton, the poor child was shaking, covered in sweat (even with the freeze out that I was experiencing up front), had dried boogers all over her face, and looked like a hot mess. Already a bit more than frazzled at this point.

We get to the fields, get out of the car, and start walking up the sidewalk, and notice everyone walking towards us. They were all leaving for lunch. I'm thinking "great, we're getting back in that torture machine again".

 So, off we go. I made Ross drive, so I could keep Brooklyn from screaming the whole way. I let her have a sip of my lemonade, and she pulls the straw out and dumps the whole cup in her lap when I turn to talk to Ross. Lovely. Ross makes a turn, and suddenly my bottom is soaked with lemonade as well.

I'm already done by this point.

We meet our friends at Arby's. Brooklyn wouldn't let Ross touch her. Meaning, fussy tantrum throwing baby would only let me hold her. I ate about 5 bites of my salad.

Back in the car. Ross's turn to entertain the fuss pot.

We get to the field again. Things were looking up.

Brooklyn ate the entire bowl of cherries that Ross's friend brought for her kids. Okay... not that big of a deal. They didn't seem to mind too much.

Brooklyn then proceeded to take over just about everything within her sight. Coloring books and crayons, other kids toy cars, and then climbing as high as she could on everything and insisting on jumping off. Following all of the big kids around and annoying them. Grabbing random drinks (anything but her own), and throwing tantrums when I would take them away.

Then comes the 20 minutes of happiness.

She's running up and down the rows of bleachers giving everyone there a big high five. She's playing games and reading with Ross's team mates, and totally winning them all over. It was beautiful.

At this point, she is 2 hours past her normal nap time. I figured, she's happy, Ross is about to play. Let's stay, and support hubby/daddy.

Then we find out that it would be another hour until he would play.

And B starts having melt downs again. We make the move over to the field he'll be playing on, and settle ourselves on the stands. Brooklyn finds a couple of little babies in their strollers next to us. She then decides that it would be fun to try to touch them, hug them, kiss them... poke them, pat their head (uh-hum... face). First time momma's weren't looking too happy. I move her...

Tantrum #3

She runs in their direction. I attempt to change her direction with ice cream, baby dolls, sno cones, powerade, her VERY OWN PONY (okay, just kidding).

Tantrum #4

then...

Tantrum #5

Ross finally notices the H*** that is going on. He offers to take her on a walk.

20 mins later. I have a tired, thirsty, grumpy kid in my lap again, who has for the 4th time, almost thrown her head into the concrete during a...

Tantrum #6

The little monster proceeds to find random drinks that I didn't know existed, and dump them all over the stands for all of the other happy softball fans. Picks up random cigarette bud and rubs it all over her shirt before ALMOST putting it in her mouth.

We take a trip to the bathroom to wash ourselves up.

Back on the stands. I turn for a moment, and Brooklyn is trying to climb INTO the baby's stroller. He was sleeping. First time momma was NOT happy. I apologize about a million times.

Then we have,

Tantrum #7

and

Tantrum #8

Ross is who knows where, and we decide to go home.

We find Ross on our way back to the car.

We go home without getting to see hubby/daddy play.

Brooklyn is now in her crib, screaming. I'm not getting her out. She needs a nap... and I do too.



My big mistake: Leaving the house.




I have nannied for 7 families. Babysat for at least 3 dozen families. Potty trained 11 two and three year olds. I used to keep a spotless house. I used to cook dinner and bake.

You would think that I have it all together, right?

Now:
I rarely make dinner once a week. My house is always a mess. Our bedroom is still not completely unpacked. Don't even open our guest room door. We make grilled cheese, nachos, turkey sandwiches, omelets, and bowls of cereal for dinner more often than not.

I survive each week because my awesome mom and sister help me more than anyone would ever know. Sometimes help means watching Brooklyn for an hour, or letting me watch Lily so the girls play happily. Sometimes it means letting me rant about how much I hate my husband's job/chosen profession and what I see it doing to him. Sometimes it means letting me cry to them about how little I see my husband, and how tired I am of feeling like a single mom so often. And sometimes it just means that I know they are there if I ever need their help.

I simply don't know how I would do it without them.

I feel like as soon as one difficult stage ends, another one begins for us. Between the extreme reflux for 8 months, 1-2 total hours of sleep at night for the first year, the 5 months of constant ear infections that caused 105 degree temperatures, the antibiotic caused weeks of constant painful diarrhea, the expensive ear tubes that took weeks to work, and now the stubborn, tantrum throwing toddler with a great gag reflex.

It still breaks my heart every time I hear her cry.

Being a mom is hard. Even though today has been what most would describe as miserable, I couldn't imagine anyone else going through today with my sweetheart besides her own mother.

Being a stay-at-home mom is hard. It seems impossible to make it through the day sometimes. But, amazingly, I have gotten through 535 days as a mom. I am grateful for every last one of them.


I will continue to be grateful for every day that I am given with my sweet little Brooklyn Rae.