Today was the first of many.
It began on that one day in the past. These days are blurring together with such vengeance I literally have no idea what day it is. Well, in my defense it's just clicked over to another day…so I have a 2/7 chance of getting it right and blaming the incorrect guess on the time of day. Yes, I realize that makes no sense--but the use of fractions and statistics makes me feel smart. Go with it.
Today was the day I ran into Target to get baby G her vitamin after spending WAY too long in Babies R Us arguing with the husband and trying to find the right base for his car. I just ran in to get her vitamin. I may or may not have ran out with 5 tote boxes, vitamin for G, vitamin for me, a family pack of double stuffed Oreos and sorbet for the hubby as a peace offering. I got into a check out line and was informed that she was closing her register and I had to move to another line. This was the straw that broke the camels back. I walked to another line and waited what seemed like an eternity for some girl to check out with some pants and the group in front of her had a 2 year old who was playing with the Target employee who thought she was adorable. I'm sure she was. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and get home. Finally it was my turn to check out. My turn: in sweat pants, hair that hadn't been washed in 2 days--but freshly cut, no makeup on and I'm SURE there were a few designer bags under my tear filled eyes. I didn't want to chit chat with the woman. I didn't want to know how cute that little girl was, or how much you like for people to wash their hands. I just wanted to give her my money, walk out into the rain, and drive home with a screaming infant in her car seat and an overly tired husband shushing her in a desperate attempt for silence at 7 p.m. with no viable plans for dinner and a new dairy free diet underway. Did you say 'no cheese?'
I know we have all had these days, but it wasn't until today--where I had those moments throughout the day, multiple times, that I realized: this isn't just one bad day. It's just a day. It's not even a bad day. It's a normal. It's baseline. I recently had a conversation with my cousin about how she hadn't slept for 8 years (3 daughters….). This conversation was held while she performed cosmetic surgery on Samantha doll. She was staying up that particular night to make her 4 1/2 year old happy. I am still learning the details of motherhood, but I feel a strange solidarity with all moms. Tonight especially. I feel no shame for the half empty Oreo container in the cupboard. I feel pride. I am proud that God has chosen me and Fray to raise Gianna. I am confident that He will provide us the strength we need to get through.
So I will embrace this day with thanksgiving in my heart. I am grateful for my screaming little bundle of joy, because one day (hopefully soon) she will look up at me with those big beautiful eyes and intentionally smile at me (without a fart soon after) and then I will realize that there is no such thing as a bad day. Life is and will never be perfect. No one was promised that. However, I plan to fill mine with happiness, smiles, and joy--even on these many rainy days to come.
God bless you! God bless this beautiful child! And God bless Oreos!
