Good Lord I feel like I’m drowning. Do you ever have one of those days, weeks, months, when you just can’t seem to get your head above water?
We had a great trip to the Bahamas last week. We saw some new things and Charli was really regulated and on her best behavior. We even got most of our assignments done! Then we got home and it’s as if the wheels have fallen off completely.
I can’t even remember Monday. Tuesday Charli (my 7-year-old) told me she hated me, never wanted to see me again AND that I was the worst. Somewhere during the verbal assault she packed her suitcase with her favorite blanket, her favorite bear and her raincoat. Priorities, right? All because I told her she had to go to the Performing Arts Center that I signed her up to attend each Tuesday. I’ll add that I talked to her about it before ever signing her up and, although she denies it, she had a great time the first (and only) time she went.
To add to the dramatic flair of the morning, we pulled into the parking lot of the center with Charli still in her pajamas, hair a hot mess, stinky breath, and me threatening to take her into class just like she was. Finally she got dressed, dried her face and we made into the building only five minutes late.
I made it through the rest of the day by the skin of my teeth only to have my precious 16- year-old call me in a panic because she was in a car accident on her way home from work. Thank goodness she was mostly okay, just bruised and sore. But nothing will take ten years off you life like seeing the lights from a 911 call, even when you know your child is ok.
Today we began facing the consequences of a car accident (her first) by visiting the car impound to assess the damage and discussing the reality that we were not buying her another car. She is expected to contribute to the repair/replacement. This was met with “but why”, “I’m not an adult”, and “this isn’t fair!” I did my best to empathize with the suckiness of the situation while also the explaining that we were not so-and-so’s parents and therefore were not going to keep replacing cars after every accident (she alleged this kid was on his fourth).
Now I’m home, after running to the chiropractor with my 16-year-old, squeezing in some lessons with Charli and then taking her to swim lessons. I’ve reheated and scarfed down my Door Dashed Chinese food and finished today’s assignments with Charli. Feeling absolutely beat I look around my house. The living room has toys piled up in one corner because that’s all the tidying up I had time for yesterday morning. There are throw pillows peaking out from under the coffee table and a blanket crumpled at the end of the couch. The bar has become a catch-all for God knows what and I cannot seem to catch up on dishes. The island in the kitchen is the place where things go to die and did I mention that I cannot remember Monday?
I am not used to feeling so unhinged. I always have it together. My house is tidy, I have all five of our schedules ironed out, I’m mom, teacher, wife, mentor, taxi driver and washer of all things dirty. But for the life of me, no matter what I do, I simply cannot get my s#!% together this week.