What a Week

…Whew. Ever have one of those weeks that you wish you’d had a forewarning about? Maybe a little disclaimer on Sunday would have been helpful. Something like, “Kat, this is future Kat. This week is really going to suck. If you’d like to, you can just lock yourself in your room and not come out again until next Sunday. Your choice.”

Had my future self been considerate enough to warn my current self, I would not be so stressed right now. Future me is so inconsiderate!

Monday was just a very frustrating first day of school. Little is fighting the schedule change tooth and nail. Transitions are awful for little ones, and having daddy home for 2 months and then suddenly not home as much anymore is hard. It’s a give and take. I love that I’m married to a teacher, because he gets fantastic breaks and does have a slightly more flexible schedule than say an accountant. But I dislike football season more than any other time of year because of Monday night rehearsals, Friday night football games, and Saturday contests and competitions galore. If it were just me, I probably wouldn’t have any problems with it, but dealing with a toddler and big schedule changes is hard. We fall into and out of routines, and that’s what works for us. I’m just thankful that I’m home with him full time so we can maintain a steady schedule that doesn’t change as much.

Still, when anything different happens in the world of a little one, they test the rules to see if those still remain. Of course they do, so it just stresses me out more than anything.

After emailing my dean more than once last week in regards to signing up for one more class this semester at the very last minute, I was under the impression that my two classes started yesterday. I rushed around like a crazy person all afternoon preparing Buggy to run up to the school with Travis before I left town. The class is 30 miles away. I couldn’t find my phone because Buggy stuck it in his toy workbench, tucked away in a drawer. By the time I made it out the door, I was certain I was going to be late. I was in tears and extremely frazzled.

On my way to the school, I called my brother who is currently enrolled at the same university full time to ask him where exactly my class was. I didn’t have time to look it up before I left. I know. I planned this badly. He said, “Um…I don’t know what room it’s in, but are you sure it starts today? I don’t think classes start until Wednesday.” I ignored him, saying, “No, my dean said several times that this class starts today.” I got up there and the room was empty and dark. I thought perhaps I was so late that I’d missed the entire class. Turns out I was only 5 minutes late… but two days early. The class starts Thursday.

So after a little pity party, I headed home to work on a grocery list for today. I had my big grocery shopping trip for the month planned for today. I like to do a huge shopping trip at the beginning of the month and then pick up fresh produce or milk as I need it from week to week.

Buggy spent all day watching “Curious George,” “Mickey Mouse Clubhouse,” and the entire movie of “Wall-E” before I finished that massive list. The printer, of course, would not work. I had to print it from Travis’s office at school. I thought it would be nice surprise to take Buggy up to McDonalds. He loves their chicken nuggets and we hardly ever eat fast food at our house. They have a huge play yard, and he talks often about the ride-in helicopter he loves to explore there.

We were only there for about half an hour and had just finished eating. I was letting Little eat and play, play and eat, because I didn’t want to fight him and force him to sit and eat before running off to play. I started smelling something that clearly smelled burnt. A few minutes later, I saw a firetruck pull up. Then another. Great. We were tucked away in the separate indoor play room, which is secluded from the rest of the dining area. I noticed that people were still eating and ordering within the main dining area, so I wasn’t too concerned. Then several firemen entered in their full uniforms. Uh oh.

Another truck. An EMT truck blocking the entrance to the restaurant for people coming in from off the interstate. I started getting that feeling in the pit of my stomach that yells, “Get out!” I noted the clearest emergency exit. Buggy continued to happily play with another little boy his own age. I noticed the dining room slowly clearing out, so I warned Buggy that he only had another five minutes to play. He returned my warning with a mini tantrum.

A moment later, the manager of the store came into the play area and addressed the few families {including us} who were still in there. She said, “We’ve had a small incident with a grease fire that we’re trying to get under control. I hate to chase you guys out, but you’ll need to leave soon. We’re terribly sorry.” I know it wasn’t a loud, terrifying fire alarm, but the mommy instinct in me went off and I was only thinking “Go go go!” I turned and told Little, “It’s time to go,” and then started gathering our things and throwing away our trash. When I turned back, he was gone. He screamed “No!” as he ran up into the labyrinth of tubes.

Of course the other family quietly gathered their things and had already left. Very soon we were the only people besides the firemen and the manager left in the building. More panic. I soon found myself at the base of a tunnel yelling for him, begging him to come down. I threatened him within an inch of his life, and when that didn’t work, I tried to make it sound as if Disney Land awaited on the other side of that tube. He still didn’t come down. I could hear him quietly giggling at the top of the structure. Finally, in a tone I’ve honestly never used before, I yelled for him to get down and marched him out to the car.

Fear mixed with rage and my hands were shaking. I broke down crying, imaging what could have happened had that been an emergency fire and not a tame and well-controlled grease fire. I drove around for a little while to calm down, then made a call to my mom to vent. I didn’t get any grocery shopping done. I knew that what I needed to do was go home. I immediately put him to bed and went to lay on the couch and decompress myself. My head was throbbing from what I only imagine came as a result of insanely high blood pressure.

I think what hit me the most was the 2 year old defiance in the face of a potentially serious situation. He’s never done anything like that before. He doesn’t bolt in parking lots or hide in grocery stores. We have a system where if my hands are tied up with grocery bags or car keys, he is to keep his hand inside my pocket. He thinks it’s a game and will sometimes ask, “Mommy pocket?” But this was a legitimate mommy freak out moment. When we got home, I told him, “It’s nap time.” He cried and asked to play instead, but I explained to him {after having the opportunity to vent and calm down a bit} that what happened in the restaurant scared mommy very much, and could have been extremely dangerous. I told him that he absolutely had to listen to me when I tell him to do something, because I know what’s best for him. He stopped crying and just nodded. Before I laid him down, he gave me a hug and said, “I sorry, mommy.” I don’t know if he actually understood what I was telling him or if he just caught onto the fact that mommy was more upset than he’d ever seen her. Either way, I appreciated the gesture.

So here we are. No groceries. Extremely stressed. Very tired. What a week. And it’s only Wednesday. I certainly hope Thursday and Friday are better. I just want to hide in bed for the next few days. Can I do that? Is that allowed?

Kat

Advertisements

3 Comments

Filed under Parenting, Personal Posts

3 responses to “What a Week

  1. **HUGS**
    When you can’t bear to take it one day at a time, take it one hour at a time!

  2. What a good boy you’ve got, Kat. You’ve done a good job training him up.

    This little man will have your back for a lifetime.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s