Running Away

I know, I know, I just recently posted about the Pit.  I’m not in the Pit today, but the cards were stacked against me this morning.  Let me tell you about it.

I didn’t sleep well (somebody call the waahhmbulance).  Atticus woke me up at 6 having to use the toilet (which is AWESOME).  I put him downstairs in his pack-n-play for the rest of the morning, because this girl doesn’t *do* earlier than 7am.  I rolled myself out of bed just before 8 and went for a run.  My $15 Nike shoes are crap, but I’m not in a position to replace them just yet (because the shoes I want are almost 10x that price), so I wear bandaids on my heels to prevent blisters.  Bandaids rubbed off.  Fortunately the skin didn’t rip open. But I’ve got a couple lovely souvenirs from my jog.

Daniel has pulled a few long days at work, so he took the day off to work on the other house (either way, he’s still working, right?).  He didn’t leave until about 10, but by then, I’d put Atticus in his room about a million times for tantrums (is this the price I pay for letting him sleep in?!!), still hadn’t fed or watered myself, needed a shower to wash off my running stink, and fielded a hundred questions or so from Grey regarding when she’d see her friends next.

*Oh, and I’ve forgotten to mention the female issue I’ve been suffering from for what seems like a thousand days and nights.  Erm, do you mind if I actually type out that I’ve got a yeast infection from the very depths of hell?  I am a baby about physical pain, but this is the very worst sort.  There’s nothing as horrible as pain and discomfort in your most sensitive areas.  And, to be frank, it’s like my lady garden has a head cold . . . .  Yes, I just typed that.  The vileness.  This problem that will not die does absolutely nothing for my mood, my temper, my self-esteem, my patience, my new psuedo-resolution, or my generous feelings of love for anyone.

So, Daniel suggested I come down to the house to help him put together the master bathroom.  We could put on a movie for the kids and won’t it be so exciting to install the baseboard, sink and toilet?  Actually, I’d LOVE to do that.  So I started trying to get myself and the kids presentable and ready to leave.

I didn’t make it out the door for TWO HOURS.

Atticus spent much more time in his room than out (given the choice between “fun” and “room” he mostly didn’t choose the former); when he was out of his room I was wrestling him on the bed trying to get his teeth brushed or taking him to the toilet again (and again. and again.).  When I took my shower he came into the bathroom needing to pee.  I didn’t realize he’d already had a leak in his pants, so I’m half hanging out of the shower trying to strip him and put him on the toilet.  Fail. Fail. Fail.  Grey was absent most of this time, coloring like a sweetheart at the kitchen table.  So since it was almost noon, I fed Atticus, packed Grey’s sandwich into her purse as requested (she’s under some delusional impression that we’re on our way to a fluffy bunny picnic at the old dirty house), finally ate the egg I’d boiled at 9.30, gave Atticus his 7th cup of water for the morning, and convinced myself that drinking while driving is frowned upon for many, many reasons.

Right as I’m finally ready to get the kids in the car it starts to rain (those of you who do or have ever lived in Chattanooga understand that terms like “frog strangler” apply to rains like this morning’s short burst from the heavenlies).  Then I get a call from Daniel, “Can you please bring my chop saw.”  Of course I responded in a loving voice, telling him I’d be more than happy to load that thing that’s all covered in sawdust into the back of the car during the current downpour.  What I really said was I WANT TO RUN AWAY FROM MY LIFE.  The kids’ seats were in the Volvo, which was parked down our very steep driveway in the cul-de-sac.  After a quick assessment of the situation, I decided it’s be easier to load the saw into the Volvo than to switch their seats into the Nissan (the more child-friendly vehicle).  I tromped down in the rain, backed the car into the driveway, loaded the chop saw and the kids, grabbed a mug of tea (for sanity, obviously), locked the house and drove away.

That’s when I noticed the gas light was on.

And remember the rain?  Well, the Volvo has a gimp windshield wiper.  Gimp.  As in, it just sits there, doing nothing except drawing awkward glances from strangers.  Fortunately it’s on the passenger side of the windshield.

On our way to the house, I did my best to gently explain to Grey that we were not going to have a butterfly fairy tale pickywicknic at the house, that we were just taking a few things to Papa and then coming right back home (where I can peacefully and privately go crazy).  She cried.  And I almost did, too.  The bathroom tile looks great, but all I could think about was maybe Fudgewrights, my main chocolate supplier, would be open.  I drove the slow way through downtown, which was good because I really like downtown (especially after spending a weekend in Columbus where I couldn’t figure out if I was simply nostalgic for the farmland or if my heart actually truly belongs there), but Fudgewrights was closed.  *Sad face.*

Oh, well.  We made it home in one piece.  I didn’t even end up having to get gas.  Everybody is fed and now napping, so I suppose the day has sort of redeemed itself.  Before her nap, Grey wanted “school time” where she traces letters I write out for her.  And she let me read to her from “Dirty Beasts” by Roald Dahl.  All in all, it seems she’s fogiven me for my insanity this morning.  I think I’ll have some more tea now.

  1. Ryan said:

    Wow. What a morning. Is this the craziness we’re in for? I’m scared.

    • alltheseblessedthings said:

      Don’t be scared! Something happens when you add more small people into your relatively calm home. We have the most precious times, but then there are crazy morning like today where the stars are aligned in someone else’s favor.

  2. LaLa said:

    I cried, twice, before 9am. I think they are plotting against us….

    Thank you for not running away, and if you do, invite me?

    (The idea of tag teaming life with kids on a daily basis is so inviting)

    • alltheseblessedthings said:

      My dad used to gesture “You” (pointing at one of us) “drive” (miming turning a steering wheel) “me” (pointing to his chest) “crazy” (twirling his finger next to his temple). Heck, he’d probably still do that at me.

      You can totally run away with me. Thank you for sharing crazy with me.

      • alltheseblessedthings said:

        Oh, the other thing he would say: If one of us asked where we were going, he’d respond “Crazy. You’re driving.” or “Crazy. Wanna come?”

        So, yeah, I’m going Crazy. Care to join me?

      • LaLa said:

        I ran away for an hour when James got home today. I went to the park and cried and prayed. It keep me from hitting something (someone). Today, my moments of proud mothering have been my ability to make it through this day without physically hurting any of them.

    • me too! me too! i want to run away too!

      • alltheseblessedthings said:

        We’ll get a bus for all the runaway moms. We’ll go on tour. Well, we’ll go for margaritas anyway.

  3. Brooke Miller said:

    After spending just a little time with you this weekend, and reading this about your day, I am convinced of 2 things: number one: that we should be neighbors, roomies (can you say commune?) or I should take up secret residence in a secret hole in a secret wall where we can laugh/cry about all the nonsense that is our lives at times; and number 2: that I just like you more each time I learn about you. I just think we’d make great buds. And our kids are insane. It would just make sense to shut them all in a room screaming/crying/peeing all together and for us to trot downstairs and have some tea. And If I may weigh in on the OH being in your heart of hearts…i vote yes. I hope that helps make your mind up.

    • alltheseblessedthings said:

      Yay! Yay! Yay! I sent Israel a text after leaving you on Saturday telling him you guys were “in” for the commune. :) We’ve simply GOT to figure out how to make this work.

      Lala (posted above you) and I lock our kids outside sometimes (only at her house where they’re trapped inside a fence). We trade kids frequently. This is what I would do with you if we lived near each other.

      I’ll let you know if Ohio ever happens. These days it seems very far away.

  4. rachel, it’s nice to know you live in my world. my world of awesomeness & chaos & insanity & gut wrenching love. and i like reading about your chunk of that world because it makes me feel less alone in my own.

    • alltheseblessedthings said:

      Gracious, none of us is alone. We’re just more honest than all those nice moms. lol

  5. I’m also voting for Ohio – no that it counts but there you have it anyway. I devoured this post. Mainly because that’s how I feel at least once (if not thrice) every single day. I’m glad you wrote it all down for us. I would have been punching the keyboard.

    • alltheseblessedthings said:

      Like my follow up post, I really think laughter is the secret ingredient, however maniacal it sounds. Like right now: Grey is calling my name over and over because she doesn’t want quiet time. I’m just giggling to myself for no good reason.

  6. Grace said:

    I want to run away at least 3 or 4 times a week. Nowadays it’s usually not because of the littlest people, but the biggest ones. Although I am quite happy to know they will pee in the toilet on their own now. By the way, did no one else see the connection between Atticus’s need to pee and the *7* cups of water in one morning?!? hahaha

    Speaking as a mom with one foot in preschool and one in middle school, the old adage is true: Little people have little problems. Big people have big problems. Life is much simpler when a snuggle and a book make everything better.

    Going crazy and drinking, ahem, tea are the only ways to stay human through it all. :)

    • alltheseblessedthings said:

      Ha! I’m glad you caught that about the water. He decided to go on a liquid diet yesterday. Seriously, I had to cut him off, and he ended up so full anyway that he refused to eat dinner.

      I’ll remember to be thankful that these small problems are just that. Soon I’ll need a little thing called “wisdom” in addition to my current friend “common sense.”

  7. Katie said:

    Almost two months after this post I am sitting down with my second gin and tonic to read it. You’re ahead of me because you can actually WRITE about your sucky day. I just think about writing. Thank you…I love you

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