Let’s just set the scene: Daycare is closed this week, Mike is working 12-14 hours days, I have looming deadlines and two children who apparently want food and stuff. Weather is total crap, hurricane-winds, tornado warnings, rain. My oven broke. Basically, it’s the end of days.
I so badly want to dive into the cookies Rougie sent me. I want to stand over the stove and inhale peanut butter by the spoonful. I want to have a martini ready in hand as soon as another adult walks through the door. But I don’t. I keep in mind my goals. It’s hard not to quiet The Sad Fat Girl with cookies. But I force myself to remember: I am not her anymore.
Those cookies and that drink will only fix Right Now. And the truth is that Right Now is just a blip. A tiny fragment of time in my day, my week, my life.
During my race last Saturday, I was running with a friend. I kept yelling for her not to stop, the encouragement as much for me as for her.
Don’t think of this moment. Don’t think of Right Now. It’s just a blip. Keep running. You don’t give up. You want this. You push.
I went to change the toddler before nap and reached for a clean diaper. There were none. Not even one hiding in the back of the cabinet. None. How does a person who has been a parent for four years run out of diapers? I knew I had some in my car so I put Sawyer down, just a shirt covering his all-too-spindly body.
“Stay here. Momma has to run to the car. Charlotte, make sure Sawyer doesn’t shave the cat or something. I’ll be back in 10 seconds.”
I ran out the front door, making sure it closed behind me. The wind has been so strong, it’s blowing it open if I think it’s latched. I jog the 15 feet to the garage and grab the extra package of diapers I keep in my car. I turn and look and see my naked-from-the-waist-down two-year old standing on the sidewalk.
My first reaction: panic.
“Sawyer, don’t move. Stay on the sidewalk!”
My god, it was 8 seconds. I should have locked the door. This could have been so much worse.
Second reaction: My kid is naked. Outside. This day sucks.
Then he yells as loud as his little voice will yell. “Okay, Momma! MY PENIS IS COLD! It needs a slipper. Brrrrrrr!”
Sometimes the bad blips turn into ones that make this whole gig worth it.