epic fail

Did you ever have one of those days where you deserve a big fat red markered F, circled no less, at the top of your paper? That was my day yesterday. It seems as though I failed on every level of motherhood and personal achievement possible.

Yesterday was a plain 'ole, old-fashion, stress level to the max kind of day. The pressure of Olivia's birthday party (happening a few hours from now... pics and inevitable stories to follow) closing in, getting the house in "show" condition for a showing today (that has been cancelled by the way- I could cuss!) and a Valentine date night that with all the other pressures bearing down, I felt like calling off.

After getting Olivia home from school she told me she had important stuff in her book bag. We looked inside and there it was... the beloved childhood brown bag decorated to receive Valentines from classmates. Except NO ONE TOLD ME THEY WERE EXCHANGING VALENTINES AT SCHOOL! In fact, I thought it was oddly freeing to not have to deal with any kind of Valentine party, and in light of the fact that her school has yet to celebrate any kind of holiday, it seemed normal. But there we sat with a sack of Valentines from kids who are probably talking bad about us as we speak. This is not the first time I have been uniformed.

Olivia has missed *popcorn* day at school twice this year (parents send $.50 for a bag of popcorn). We must look like the biggest stick in the mud parents who don't want their 3 year old (nearly 4 thankyouverymuch) to have any kind of fun. I bought some tickets for a school event that never made it home in time for the event, so I had to buy more, and then they made it home nearly a month after the event. I'm thinking there is a missing link in the communication process. It *might* be the aforementioned 3 (nearly 4) year old. I'm just sayin'.

But back to the epic fail. I was running around like a mad woman trying to get the house presentable. And every.single.thing. I tried to do was undone by a little hand. Then there was a lippy little nearly 4 year old who was totally pushing buttons. She disobeyed touching something several times, so I slapped her hand. (Before you call Children Services on me listen to what she told me...) "That didn't hurt!" "Olivia, my intention was not to make it hurt, my intention was to get your attention so that you would obey." "Well, it still didn't hurt!" That's when I turned into psycho mom. I yelled. I screamed. I sent her to time out. Where she stuck out her tongue and blew me a raspberry. Oh, that sent me! Now I threw soap in the mouth on top of the time out. But not before I literally had to do 2 laps around the living room as she screamed and cried to catch her. It was ugly.

There were more time outs, and even a time out for me. I went upstairs to pray and catch my breath. I was gone, maybe 7 minutes, until I heard the crash of breaking glass. I ran downstairs. There, all three kids were in the kitchen frozen, staring at a broken jar candle. I grabbed each one, carried them to the living room put them each in time out and spent the next 15 minutes cleaning shards of class from every nook and cranny of the kitchen.

So by the time it was date night, I was at the end of my rope. (Thankfully the babysitter reported the kids were awesome, best ever! Makes me want to cuss even louder.) Actually, I'd much rather have them be evil for me than for some sweet college student! As we got in the car, Steve had written me the sweetest journal entry in a journal he's kept for me over the years. It was like God's grace falling all over my failure of a day. It was just what I needed. So while I deserve an F for yesterday, today is a new day, and I'm thankful for that.

I guess the moral of the story is I'm still faster than a 3 year old, always buy good tasting soap, never leave a jar candle where they can reach it, send Valentines no matter what, and NEVER cancel date night.