Naptime was exceptionally frustrating. Normally, Katie naps while I'm getting Gabba down for her nap, but was wide awake today and refusing to ride in the Babyhawk, so I had to tuck one girl under each arm and truck up the stairs. (If you haven't seen Grace lately: Girlfriend is a TANK. She's gonna play middle linebacker on the
Not today. Oh no. Today, she woke up ravenously hungry just five minutes before Grace did. I really had no choice but to wrangle Grace out of her bed with Katie hanging off me, gulping furiously, while her sister screamed with rage over the unfairness of having to share mama's attention after naptime. She then screamed because I wouldn't give her the bottle of fake butter-flavored oil we put on post-nap popcorn (nutrition WIN!), and again when I only let her shake half the salt shaker over her popcorn.
So, after about fifty years, it was finally bedtime, and even though she had my full, undivided attention, her mood remained foul and screamy. But after the day we'd had, I just....I couldn't just tuck her in screaming and walk out. Not tonight. So when she started begging for the rocking chair, I knew she was stalling, but I couldn't tell her no. I scooped her up and carried her over to the chair, where she told me that she has brown eyes but I have blue eyes and daddy has green eyes and Tatie has blue eyes and we both have noses and then we rubbed our noses like the bears in her book. Then she wrapped her arms over my shoulders, nuzzled her face into my neck, and whispered--
"No no touch fire. Too hot."
And see, the problem there? Was that I could. not. stop. laughing, and my chest was shaking so hard she woke up, saw me laughing, and kept saying it over and over to make me laugh again. BUT, I did tuck her in with no tears, so the day that was mostly a fail, ended a win.
In honor of Mother's Day, maybe let's not be so hard on ourselves for the days that feel like epic fails.