One of Those Days

If I say, "Holy Crap! This is hard!" does it sound like I'm complaining? Because "HOLY CRAP! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY!! THIS IS HARD."

Just so we're clear, I'm not complaining. I love my life. My kids. My husband. My car. Love it all, but we're all entitled to one of Those Days. Right?

The one where the car doesn't start so your husband takes yours. No biggie because the thought of taking both your children anywhere but the park by yourself still makes you get that throw up taste in the back of your mouth. You only have two arms but both of your kids want to be picked up at the same time. You can usually manage doing the dishes holding one in the sling, but the sling is the in car- not the one still in your driveway.

Your toddler decides she'd like a tortilla and cheese for lunch. You warn her not to feed it to the dog because it's the last tortilla. You set up her up outside to have a picnic on the back porch and lock the beasts inside to protect her dining experience. You think you're going to have a few minutes to blow dry your hair because if you don't your boobs will explode. That is when you've found is the most productive time to pump. Not three minutes into getting hooked up you hear screaming from the porch where sure enough, the dog is looking very pleased. The toddler on the other hand is clutching her Tinkerbell plate to her chest screaming, "Mommy! Save me. I wanna nother tilla!!" You might as well explain the Theory of Relativity than explain the Theory of Last Tortilla.

At this point you would throw everyone in the car and head for In N Out praying that she'll fall asleep on the way home, or at least go buy more torillas, except there is no car. You decide against walking the seventeen miles to anywhere. Instead, you decide today would be a great day to reinstate nap taking and set her up with a b.o.t.t.l.e. A battle which you've decided will no longer be. She can take a bottle at 53.

You got home late the night before without stopping to get milk. So you whip up a batch of powdered milk thinking you might be able to kill the taste with a little breast milk. Nu uh. You decide against adding the breast milk because you really don't have time to pump and go with straight powdered milk to which she announces, "This is not milk." No nap.

By four o'clock and your fourth round of pumping your body realizes it didn't get the requisite hours of sleep for minimum function, and there is nothing left. You encourage your toddler to go potty by herself and she returns wearing pants. They are inside out, but she's wearing pants.If there is no milk and no tortillas, there is no dinner. You text your husband  "Bring home sushi." and blast Shania Twain so you don't lose it. Your toddler tells you she won't dance with you because she's busy putting a diaper on Stitch and zipping him up in the suitcase.

You don't even realize you're tired and have had one of Those Days until your Husband comes home. Rather than kick the dog, you kick him. Suddenly you burst into tears and know there is no way you're going to make it to knitting-what you've looked forward to all day. You've got to go to the grocery store. You thank the stars and your good judgement in Husband choosing because he doesn't kick back and offers to cheuffeur you about your errands. He offers a foot massage while you blubber something about..."Hard day... no tortillas...sooo tired....nipples hurt...what if they don't know I love them....audiologist appt....need new stroller...pay for college..." Even now, I can't follow it.

You know no one cares and there are people laughing at you as they read this. "Amateur. She's only got two." You take comfort in three things. Picturing throwing rocks at them and knowing you've got fantastic aim. You've broken someones nose by lobbing a nectarine. As you've sat here chronicling the events of a normal day you've pumped nine ounces, a personal best. And that you can make sure they know you love them because you're going to get to do it all again tomorrow.