My mother used to tell me not to run away from my problems but today I did just that and it was great.
I’m hesitant to tell you about my day. It was that bad. I guess honesty is what this blog is all about so…to start, The Husband is, again, away. The Baby woke early and cried for 45 minutes. That followed quickly by three consecutive tantrums from The Boy, the last of which ended with me holding the door to his room closed while he screamed and kicked and finally calmed down after 20 minutes (by the way, in the midst of this The Husband did call and ‘helpfully’ suggested I send him to his room – which, I should point out, I had already done three times). I also did the colossally stupid thing of threatening to take away all TV for the day, which I had to follow through on. As my sister pointed out… never take away the drugs!
Once I got everyone calmed down and packed up we got into the van to go to a doctor’s appointment, for which we were, of course, running late. The van wouldn’t start. A generous friend, thankfully, came raring over to give me a boost and we got to the doctor only 20 minutes late.
On the way home, I decided to stop at my favourite fruit stand only to find it was closed and the parking lot full of bikers. Then two of them started walking towards my van. Then they began fiddling around with, what seemed to be, my front tire. After getting out of my van they told me my interior bumper was dragging – I didn’t know I had an interior bumper! They managed to tuck it back underneath (where it apparently belongs) and told me the bolts that normally hold it in place were totally gone. I got underway again, though I’m not sure I thanked the very nice men very well, my mood was rapidly deteriorating at this point.
I decided to attempt to salvage the morning’s plans and took the kids to the zoo. I had to pull over twice on the way there to tuck the errant bumper back into place but my frayed patience held together fairly well until we tried to leave the zoo . The van, once again, would not start. Another helpful stranger gave me another jump start and we were off, with two more stops to fix the stupid bumper, now half worn off from dragging on the highway.
I was pretty much at my breaking point and it was not quite 1pm. I was exhausted. I was in a terrible mood. I have no idea what prompted me to do a crazy thing like go for a run but I did and, I have to say, it was the smartest thing I could have done. It gave me a chance to work out some of my frustration and I came back with a new perspective.
The day continued with a possibly broken toe, another jump start from a kind neighbour so I could take the *&!# van to drop off for a morning appointment for a new battery and The Boy ending up in bed voluntarily at 6pm after yet another tantrum (he’s going to be up at 4am!). If I hadn’t gotten out of the house and run, I would have been screaming by bed time. Instead, there were a few tense moments but overall I was able to keep cool and move on.
It could have been a real Dark Mommy moment but somehow a run made it bearable. Who knew?