Yesterday was a good day. It was a really good day. The kind of day that infuses your outlook on tomorrow with hope and confidence in being a parent. Yesterday was the kind of day that smelled like cookies and that powder you sprinkle on your animal stained carpet, before vacuuming it. That kind of day. We’ve all had them. We recognize them from the bunch so well because they’re an anomaly. Now, I’m not saying that life sucks. I believe my life, in particular, is beautiful and I love it. BUT you’d have to sift through the trial and error mishaps, forehead slapping, clumsy days of learning life lessons to be able to see that beauty.
Call me an optimist (obviously), but as a new parent, every time I have a good day, like yesterday, I feel like its smooth sailing from here. My child is definitely going to grow up to be a doctor and it will all be thanks to me and my dandy Moming. I relax in bed at night and I think to myself, “Man! Today was awesome! My Little Man fed himself at every meal. He even got some in his mouth! I was like a ninja putting him down for all three (yes, THREE) naps and he didn’t even claw my face or shit his diaper seconds before laying him down. I stayed on top of the dishes and even folded an entire basket of wrinkled, but clean, laundry. I’ve pretty much got this in the bag! Motherhood, here I come! Tomorrow, I’ll teach him sign language!” I kiss my Husband good night, because after a day like today, I obviously couldn’t love him more. And I drift off into a wonderful slumber, where I dream about things that haven’t happened to me since before I got married. Like that one night when my Husband (then fiancé) and I went to that French restaurant, then came home and listened to Jazz music, laughed, and let’s just say, I was desert *wink wink*.
Anyhow, I digress. So, after a day like yesterday, I fully intended on starting today off like a rockstar on tour. Yet, this is how today panned out…
I woke up abruptly to the sound of my Little Man screaming. I’m almost positive he got his leg stuck in his crib slats again, but in an instant, Mama Warrior instinct kicked in and I ran to his room. I was fully intending to fight the ghost I’ve been waiting to hear talking to him over his monitor. Instead, as per usual, I find his leg stuck in the crib slats. No real danger or injury, it just scared him into a tantrum. So, I scoop up my poor Little Man and head back to the living room.
Shit! I stepped in something I’m pretty sure I recognize…It’s warm, it’s squishy, it’s definitely shit.
Let me just drop a quick back story: We have a cat (our first-born) and he has been my loving confidant and life partner for the last ten plus years. He’s been through an awful lot with me and when I married my Husband he couldn’t have lucked out more. Up until he met my Husband he hated just about every person that stepped through my door. For some reason, he didn’t feel that way about my Husband. When me and my Husband (then boyfriend) moved in together it took some getting used to, but my cat soon realized he scored big because now he had TWO people obsessed and doting over him. Our every action and conversation was centered around my cat, the King of our world. The one area where I knew he would draw the line is babies. I knew he would never fully accept a baby. I know my cat well, because I was right. To him, my Little Man simply does not exist.
So, I stepped in the shit. My cat’s shit. He shit in the hallway and I just stepped into it. I hadn’t realized it was shit that I stepped in right away (I told you I had just abruptly woke up, ready to fight the ghost that is obviously after my child), so now I have three shit footprints in my hallway. Not off to the rockstar start I was hoping for, but I can fix this! I am Woman, hear me roar.
I clean up the excrement, I have a talk with my cat about his behavior and using his word instead of reacting negatively to gain attention, and I have some good quality play time with my handsome Little Man. Back on track. Let’s do this, Mom!
Then my Husband come’s home from work early, with a “Man Cold.” So naturally he went straight to bed to sleep off the rest of the day. I, on the other hand, want to maintain my rockstar intentions, so I welcome the extra sick baby to care for and I start juggling. I straighten the apartment, I wrap Christmas presents, I do at least one load of laundry so my Little Man will have a clean Sleepsack to sleep in, I go grocery shopping for homemade Minestrone soup ingredients because my Husband “wants something hearty, like a chunky soup,” because you have to “feed a cold.” Sure thing, I’m on it! I laugh in the face of adversity!
I come home from the market, Husband is still sleeping, so I make dinner, while entertaining my Little Man. I feed my Little Man dinner along with a couple of snacks he’s trying for the first time, and I get my Husband up to eat his hearty soup. Because, as I now know, he has to feed his cold. I give my Little Man a bath (wow, this day is going by fast!), all the while coughing, sneezing, and my eye’s are starting to water; I hope I’m not getting sick , as well. Oh, AND I’M ON MY PERIOD! Yes, the honor of being a woman. My smug little friend, that has never ending terrible timing, my Period. That bitch. Anyway, like I said, I digress. Mommy warrior!
At this point my Little man is getting super agitated and whining a lot and after his bath I notice his face is looking red and blotchy and he is now refusing his bottle. Then his whines quickly turn into a full-blown screaming tantrum. **Oh shit! The new snacks I bought him!!** I run to check the label, FULL OF DAIRY!! My Little Man has a milk and soy protein intolerance. I was so worn down and not rockstaring it, like I hoped I would, because I bought and fed my Son snacks WITHOUT even reading the GD label.
I now feel like the biggest piece of shit and I almost want to call child protective services on myself because at this point, I simply do not deserve to be his Mother. I know that we all make mistakes, but how could I be so amazing at Moming one minute, yet so god awful the next? I’m pissed at myself, I’m slightly bitter at my Husband because I do way too much of one thing without help, and I’m super-duper shocked I didn’t read the ingredients list on food that I bought for my Son.
Then I realize the point. The moral, if you will, to this long and drawn out story; It’s okay if I make mistakes. It’s okay if mistakes happen to me. I’m a mommy, not a rockstar. My Husband is a baby, but he is a good man and is usually the life of our little four member party. My cat is an asshole, but he’s just asking for more of my undivided love and attention. Like before, when he alone was my whole world. Sure, yesterday was amazing and I hope I have more just like it. But today taught me lessons that yesterday didn’t. Today, I got to hear my Son laugh. Today, I was able to have a heart to heart with my other Son, my cat. Today reminded me to always check the ingredients label before feeding my Son snacks that are not homemade. And perhaps the best outcome from today was that I finally got to order that little spot cleaner I’ve been eyeing and asking my Husband to get, for months now. And believe me, I did not waste the opportunity to exclaim that we should have ordered it when I said we should have. There was a life lesson in Today for my Husband, as well. That’s not wasted on me.
Every day serves a purpose and even when it seems like they all run together and are brimming with obstacles and tiny little shit bombs, they all matter. Especially ones like today.