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  • Megan

Just a dump of a day

Updated: Dec 6, 2020

You know those days where nothing seems to be going how you planned? Those days, above anything else, drive me up the wall. You see, I am a recovering (or a not-so recovering) control freak and when things don’t go according to plan… well, I just don’t love it.

I pride myself on doing a decent job of brushing things off that won’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But when I can’t seem to just roll with the punches or when it’s something I think is important (i.e. the family eating dinner together) and these days get to me, you will find me with my RBF (x1000), my jaw set and clenched (sorry, dentist!) and me silently raging through the house.

I know when these feelings of ‘nothing’s going right’ take over, the smallest thing could push me over the edge into a big downward spiral. My husband almost always assumes it’s something that he’s unknowingly done to make me mad, and how could he not? I visibly hulk out without saying a damn thing to let him know otherwise.

Do you have days like these? Do you know these feelings?

I had one of those days recently. I could feel the anxiety build. My husband could too. Or maybe he saw the color of my skin slowly turning green because you know, hulking out and stuff.

Allow me to explain. You remember the above example of the family eating together? I try my hardest to make sure that everyone is sitting down at the table promptly at 5:45pm so that we can all enjoy a meal together. My husband works full time while I stay home, and the pre-dinner/bedtime routine is crazy. So, being able to sit down together for 20-30 minutes with few interruptions or distractions is something I have come to love, and adore and just really, truly need.

Well, on this particular Sunday, we got Addison down for her second nap and decided that once she was up, we would run to the store so that we could get more formula. This is certainly something I could have just handled while she was down, knowing that the dinner I had planned was going to take a little longer than usual to prep. But I also (selfishly) really wanted to take a relaxing bath without any interruptions, which I planned to do while she was resting.

I was training for a half marathon and spent the morning knocking out a 10-mile run. This mama was SORE and aching post run. A nice soak in a hot bath was all I could think about from mile 2 on. And so that is what I did. With Addison down, I ran a bath, poured some salt in it and soaked for 40 glorious minutes.

It took us longer than anticipated to get out of the house (but doesn’t it always?) and we were getting to the store right when I should have been starting to prep our dinner. I knew this as I glanced at the clock, but thought, “no bother, it’s not a huge deal if we sit down to dinner 10-15 minutes late.” We got the formula Addison needed and we headed back home.

Once home, it was time to take off running. We started checking things off the nightly to do list, and then, somehow, it was 5:15. I could feel the anxiety starting in the pit of my stomach, but thought, “its still okay. I’ll just need to hustle through getting the enchiladas put together and we will still only be a little late.”

WELL. I don’t think I need to tell you that that is not how it went. OF COURSE, nothing goes right when you’re in a hurry. The enchiladas were falling apart, there was chicken everywhere and then it was 5:50 and none of us were eating. Clearly, we weren’t going to all be sitting down together, and keeping Addison on her schedule was more important to me.

I got a plate together for her and we all sat down together. Michael and I munched on veggie straws, just so we were eating something with her. (Remember how I said I ran earlier in the day? Hanger is a very real thing in our house, especially after a good work out and not enough calories going in post good work out.)

Addison finished up just as our enchiladas were done. I told Michael to sit and enjoy them and I would do bath time, since it was his night to do a story and bedtime bottle. You see, we take turns and switch off every night so that if one of us is ever not around for a night here or there, she won’t throw a fit that the other one is taking the reins.

I got Addison situated in the tub. She was having a splash of a time and I was thoroughly enjoying watching her. My stomach was loudly growling the whole time, but I knew everything was fine because I would get to eat just as soon as we were clean and set in our jammies.

But I should have known. Addison had other plans.

You see, we have a serial tub pooper and we had been long overdue.

She was turned away from me so I couldn’t see her facial expression that lets me know when she’s gearing up for a turd and we need to abort the tub immediately. With no heads up that I could see, she dropped the kids off at the pool. The temperatures must have been just right for a tub dump.

We got cleaned up, dressed in our jammies and out to tell dada we were ready for our story. I saw that he had turned the oven to warm so that I could still enjoy a hot dinner and for real, bless that man. Sometimes it really is just the little things, y’all.

I turned my attention away from my growling stomach, toward the tub that now needed a good scrubbing. Once that was finished, it was time for kisses, snuggles and lights out.

It seems like this is the way things go. You know the saying, “When it rains, it pours”? When you’re having a dump of a day, someone gives you a literal dump to round it all out and keep you humble.

The pressure I put on myself to make sure things stick to schedule is something I don’t think I will ever outgrow. The anxiety I get when things end up off-schedule is real and something I will always need to work on.

But as I was sitting down to eat my dinner 1.5 hours later, I couldn’t help but think: Addison had no idea that things were off schedule. She had the best time eating dinner, splashing around and taking a massive tub dump.

One day she will be a teenager and might not have the slightest interest in sitting down to dinner with us. One day, she will not need help bathing herself. One day she won’t look up at me with such pride after a really good splashing session.

So, if you’re like me, I see you, I feel you. May your anxiety be non-existent, your patience be strong, and your tub cleaner be stronger. Breathe mama. It may be a little off schedule, but you’ve got this. And you are rocking the hell out of it.


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