One of Those Days

Yesterday was one of those days where it just felt like the wheels were coming off. I’m sure everyone has them — we just seem to have them more often than I’d like to admit.

The boy woke up with a runny nose. Again. Honestly, I don’t think it’s gone away since August when his sister started school. It gets better for a bit, then comes back. Rinse and repeat.

The morning didn’t improve much. Our daughter was in full resistance mode getting ready for school. It happens. Yesterday was one of those times.

After finally getting her out the door, the boy had speech therapy. He isn’t really talking yet — a few words, some sounds — but not much else. It’s frustrating for us, but even more so for him. You can see it in his face every day when he tries to communicate and can’t quite get there.

And then came the afternoon.

A message from school: our daughter had an accident. No big deal, it happens. But then my wife, Pam, picked her up — and realized there’d been another one on the way home evidenced by the soaking wet car seat.

Meanwhile, the boy’s nap ended around 2:15, and he woke up in a particularly miserable mood. Pam texted me that both kids were cranky and melting down. By the time I got inside at 3:15, everyone was in full chaos mode.

• Daughter: crying, whining.

• Son: yelling, inconsolable.

• Wife: 100% over everything.

Welcome home, Dad.

The evening didn’t offer much relief. Dance class went fine, dinner was the usual circus — complaints, negotiations, selective hearing — but manageable.

Then bedtime power-down routine arrived. Our daughter refused to go upstairs, lost it completely, hit Pam, and chaos took over again. I yelled — more than I should have. Hitting sets me off. She went to the “thinking chair” (a story for another time). I grabbed the boy and the dog and took a walk to cool off. Probably the best decision of the night.

Eventually things settled. Bath time, pajamas, milk, the nightly regroup in the family room. That’s when our daughter saw a mosquito and retreated to her room. A few minutes later, she peeked out: “Mommy, I have to go potty.”

Pam went to help her — only to discover she’d already gone… in her pull-up diaper. That made accident number four for the day.

Back to the shower.

I sat there on the couch, just wondering:

How did we get here?

Why does everything feel so chaotic?

Why won’t she listen?

What are we doing wrong?

Now, writing this with a clearer head, I know the answer: nothing (probably). She’s just a kid doing kid stuff. The boy’s a toddler being a toddler. It’s all part of the game. We’re trying our best. Some days it feels like enough; other days — like yesterday — it really doesn’t.

But as they say: survive and advance. Tomorrow’s a new day. And who knows — maybe it’ll be easier. …Or maybe not.