SBA

I'll be honest; I've had a rough couple of weeks.  This weekend, I had enough; all the events of the past couple weeks culminated and I lost it.  My mother would refer to my behavior as my "SBA" (stinking bad attitude) and, man, did it rear its ugly head this weekend! 

Between my newly acquired status as a working mom, coaching cheerleading (did you realize there were so many games in basketball season?), and all the other obligations that come from owning a home, being married, and rearing children...I'm about exhausted.  Can I hear an amen??

On Tuesday, I wrote about my love of snow days.  By Wednesday, the love had changed a little.  Tuesday was fun with the baking and the family time (Daniel was snowed in with us).  Wednesday, Daniel went back to work - taking my car, mind you, so that I couldn't get out of the house - I did taxes, painted my nails, and was immediately bored with being home.  I posted my boredom on Facebook, knowing my husband would see it and thinking that, because he knew me so well, he would call and rescue me from my real-life snow drift by taking me out to eat.  That didn't happen.  Strike one.  (In his defense: we did go out to eat...I just had to ask for it; his solution to my boredom was to take me to the grocery store!!!  No thank you!)

Thursday, I was getting ready for work while Will was sleeping.  I heard him waking up and I went to get him.  I opened the door to his room and WOW!  It smelled like a port-a-potty.  Seriously.  I took a deep breath of fresh, hallway air, and went in.  There was baby poo everywhere.  His diaper could not contain the seriousness of the poo and had released its' contents all over the crib.  My beautiful, loveable, sweet son had, in his just-awake-confusion; rolled over in the poo so that it was on his front side AND his backside.  There was poo EVERYWHERE.  I picked him up - put him in the bathtub (clothes and all), stripped his room down and threw everything I could into the washer and lysoled the rest, called in sick to work, and began day number 3 of being stuck in the house.  Strike two. 

Saturday morning, my son awoke at 5am.  Being the wonderful mother I am, I rolled over and turned down the baby monitor.  That worked until around 6.  Then I had to get up.  Strike three.

My patience was OUT!

From the moment I rolled over and my feet hit the floor I was in a bad mood.  First, why in the world can my son sleep until 8 or 8:30 on the weekdays and Sunday mornings, but has to get up at the crack of dawn every Saturday?  Why?  Secondly, why did I have to be the one who got up.  I know that pile of sheets, pillows, and comforter next to me had to have heard that crying too....right?? 

We were to meet my parents for breakfast, but since we were up so early, we decided to go grocery shopping because no one would be out...right?  WRONG.  All the crazy people go to Walmart at 8am on Saturday morning.  And, to end the wonderful Walmart experience, we got stuck behind a guy who bought $72 worth of cat food.  And, he paid for it with 4 different credit cards.  I don't make this stuff up, people!

On to breakfast with the fam.  Since my son was up at 5 and it was now 10 and he'd had no nap; we had absolutely NO chance of making it through breakfast without a meltdown and about 20 minutes into breakfast, that is exactly what happened.  Strike number 3,452,3240.  My SBA was ready to beat some heads together. 

We came home, put the child to bed, and I let my husband have it.  Poor guy, he didn't even see it coming.  Sometimes, I seriously envy the simplicity of most guys.  My complexity is about to wear me out. 

All day this went on.  I cried so hard that I had to put on several layers of concealer before we went out that night and my eyes tingled and stung all evening long.  I yelled, I cried, I stamped my feet, and said things that were probably really stupid.  I threw a large, exaggerated temper tantrum and threw in a little pity party on the side.  Looking back, I'm less than thrilled of the woman I was on Saturday.  Proverbs 31??  I think not.

I love to write.  I chose to write a blog because I've always wanted to write for other people.  It's a vulnerable action.  I've found that most of the time, when I'm vulnerable enough to share my life; my honest life, there's at least one or two people that share my feelings and have been through similar.  So, I'm up late tonight, writing about my temper tantrum and my SBA because I know there's somebody out there who is going through the same thing right about now.  And, while I wish I could tell you that I "considered it all joy" and got over it and was the better person, that's not the case.  I'm still sitting here with a little bit of that SBA trying to peak through.  I'm still sitting here feeling a little bit sorry for myself.  I'm still sitting here thinking that if something else happens to me tomorrow; I may just come unglued.  Heaven help us all....