You know in movies when a scene plays out that seems like the whole situation escalated a bit quickly. Right when your brain is trying to accept the drama that just unfolded before your very eyes, it cuts back to the person who it all started with just in time for you to realize it wasn’t real. Everything that just happened was in the character’s head. What actually happens is far less dramatic.

Today I feel a bit like one of those movies. On the outside I’m coasting on neutral. (Because you know my tiny humans are learning to handle things based on how I act.) Inwardly, my fists are clenched, my eyes are clamped shut, and I just let out a good frustrated scream. I’ve literally been fighting an inward battle of self-control all day. As I sit here now, typing these very words, I’m fighting off frustrated tears because today has just absolutely been one of those days.

It’s not even that I’ve had the worst day ever. Sure my toddler has pushed the limit on literally everything since waking up this morning. (What else is new?) It’s more of a cumulation of events. That’s how I operate though. I can handle a lot on any given day, but when I’ve had to “handle” several things for multiple days in a row, I start to resemble a ballon that is being overfilled with air.

It all started several days ago when I had, what I consider to be, one of the most frustrating and emotionally draining conflicts occur. (Everyone has their thing that really gets them, and this was mine.) I’m also the type of person that needs downtime, alone, to recharge. (I’m very much an introvert.) I will start to feel drained if I have been too busy or on the go for an extended period of time. Since we’ve been back in town, I have not had my much needed moment to slow down and recharge. So let’s recap, I chased “my hard thing” with hitting the ground running as soon as we got back in town.

By yesterday evening I really just needed a minute. Instead, I was taking the dog to the vet for yet another evaluation with both children in tow, during the baby’s dinner time. The toddler asked for McDonalds on the way home, and since it was in the same parking lot, that’s what we did. Yep, my child ate McDonalds on a Wednesday night right after being on vacation for a week. But hey, I also just cleaned dog poop off of the side walk in front of TCBY because my little fur ball gets the nervous car poops. (Upon seeing the dog drop several presents, my toddler opens the door to the vet’s office and says, “Hey! Do y’all have a poop bag?!” Thank you Hunter for both the help and for announcing to the surrounding population what just happened.)

Back to today. Hunter had a Pop-Tart for the third morning in a row (It just hasn’t been worth the fight this week.) and was once again found “hiding” in the couch cushions in an effort to not have to go to swim class this morning. The car ride to soccer after swim consisted of fifteen straight minutes of arguing and throwing a fit about not wanting to go to soccer. Then refusing to go onto the field once we were there.

We are going through the argue about everything phase. (Mommas of older children, please tell me this is just a phase.) Today’s toddler moment occurred because he was forced to do something he loved (soccer) and see his friend (also something he loves.). So after listening (Yes just listening. You know the old saying of, “If you don’t have anything nice to say,” …well I currently didn’t have anything nice to say.) to the fifteen minute car tantrum about the evils of his mother for forcing him to go to soccer, I was a momma on the edge.

We make it home from soccer in time for the baby to take a late nap. Then it is a rat race to make lunch and get ready to walk back out the door to get the dog to his grooming appointment. (Of course this includes factoring in a twenty minute cushion to get out to the car because the toddler runs and/or hides every time it is time to leave. Obviously.) Not two seconds after getting out of the car, yep you guessed it, the dog nervous poops behind someone else’s car in the parking lot. This happened in the time it took me to get the baby out of the car. Normally I come prepared with a poop bag in hand as well as unloading the dog first so I can get him to the grassy area. Friends, today I have just been off my game. Luckily, the sweet girl at the check-in counter had a spare poop bag, and I was able to make it back outside before the unsuspecting schmuck returned to their car and had to back up into my dog’s droppings.

This next part is what finally does me in. It is after this that I decide I can fester in my frustration or write about it and get it all out. For the safety of everyone, I chose to write about it. (Y’all I didn’t realize how much I have grown to LOVE emojis until I started this blog and couldn’t use them. There are so many places I want to insert those little things. If this were a text, I would choose the purple smiling devil face, followed by the laughing emoji before the parenthesis.)

Once the tiny humans are loaded back up in the car we head to Hunter’s hair appointment. Y’all, we have literally gone to the same hair place for every hair cut that Hunter has ever gotten. Because of that, one would assume that everything would work out alright. This summer Hunter’s hair has grown into the cutest shag hairstyle. We are taking family pictures at the beach in August and I could already envision how adorable he was going to look in tiny linen pants with his toes in the sand for pictures. Since we are a month out from the trip, I wanted to get his hair shaped up just enough to keep him from getting too long before pictures. (I assumed that by getting a trim now, that his hair would have time to get back to the perfect messy state before the trip.)

Holy they just cut two inches off his head. That was the exact thought I had when I looked up from feeding the baby his lunch. The stylist and I had just talked about trimming the slightest amount possible to keep him nice and shaggy. Imagine my surprise when I saw two inches missing from the entire right side of his head. I was in shock I tell you. There was nothing I could do or even say at this point because the damage had already been done. My only option was to continue feeding the baby his lunch while mourning the shag that I would no longer have in our beach pictures. (In the grand scheme of things, I know it’s just hair and that it will grow back. But I still feel super sad about it.)

Once he was done, I knew something looked off but I couldn’t pinpoint it because I was still absorbing the fact that his hair was now so short. It wasn’t until we made it home that I registered exactly what was off. (You’re going to see the picture and wonder how I missed it. But guys, I really was so frustrated about the loss of the shag that it’s all I could see.) We were sitting on the couch after his nap when it hit me. Not only was his hair shorter, it also wasn’t even. The front was butchered and the sides still hung over his ears. Now add the art work he added to his face in his room and he was looking really extra. (He told me he drew an H on his face so that if he got lost, someone would know who he was and could help him get home. I couldn’t argue with that logic so I said, “Well that makes sense. But let’s never do that again.”)

All that said, after the baby woke up, we went back to the hair salon so that they could even him out. There was also the matter of the dog. (Remember, he was at the groomers.) I think it was a mix of my husband seeing the picture of the toddler’s hair, hearing the frustration in my voice over it, and knowing that I couldn’t be in two places at the same time, that made him decide to leave work a half hour early to go grab the dog. Whatever the reason, I was so grateful for his help. Without it, I would have had to grab the dog first, bring him home, and then go back to the hair salon. Resulting in the baby’s dinner being late, for the second day in a row, which leads to a baby Jack Jack situation in our house.

Y’all. Today. Was. A. Day. But I lived to tell about it. Not even a single tear was shed over the whole hair debacle. (I cried on the inside like a winner instead.) The moral of this story is, don’t lose heart or beat yourself up if you have one of “those days”. Girl, you are not alone. Let me say that again, You. Are. Not. Alone. You are not a bad mother. You will live to tell about it. We all have those days. Find a way to survive until dinner time arrives. Then, pass the kids off to yo man and do whatever it is you need to do to put the day behind you.

My method is to make it until the tiny human’s bedtime (I relax the best once the chores are done and the kids are tucked in.) and then go for a walk in the remaining sunlight. I also like to unwind with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s (The Tonight Dough) and watch something funny like Friends. Whatever it is that works for you, make sure and end “those” days with your choice of self care. I hope you can feel every ounce of love and grace I am sending your way. Make sure and give yourself some love and grace as well.

XOXO