Well, it was bound to happen. Combine a hectic week with lots of minor failures and hassles, add three kids, a constant headache and exhaustion and what do you get? A complete meltdown.
It happened to me. Two nights ago. And it was so comical that my husband insisted that I write about it. After a day of rest (if rest is going to another doctor's appt and taking food to Avery's school party) yesterday, I am ready to purge my soul and reveal my embarrassing-and somehow comical-temper tantrum.
Let me just start by saying that, for some reason, I've been having headaches. Pretty much daily and almost all day long. So that kind of puts me at a disadvantage when dealing with the other little hassles that go along with raising kids and running errands.
Remember the night of the Christmas program? I couldn't find a thing to wear in a closet full of clothes and I was frustrated. I got home that night, purged my closet of almost all of the winter clothes I haven't worn in the last year and cleaned them, hung them on hangers, and packed them into the car to take to the resale shop. But when I got to the resale shop, they had a sign that said they weren't accepting clothes until January 2. Sorry for the inconvenience, they said.
And Wednesday, I had an eye appointment in Dallas to check to see if these headaches are visual. I chose a doctor in Dallas because my husband goes to him and says he is super thorough and does all kinds of diagnostic tests. They asked for my insurance when I made the appointment and said "Yes, we do take Eye Med" and since my husband goes there, I knew it wasn't a problem. Sooooo, I fed the kids and got them dressed. Then I got showered and dressed and got us all into our car seats. We drove 40 minutes into Dallas and arrived 10 minutes early to the eye doctor's office. I was waiting on my husband to come pick up the kids. He had taken off work for an hour or two to come help watch them while I was examined. When I walked in, I said my name and the lady said "Didn't you get my message?" Uh oh. That is never good.
"No. There are no messages on my phone." "Hmmm...are these the correct numbers?" "Yes, but there is no message." "Well, I'm sorry, but it turns out that while we do take Eye Med, we don't one of their plans and that just happens to be the plan that you are on." "What? My husband goes here. " "Well, we aren't sure why they accepted your husband, but they are rejecting you and maybe it's just changed in the last few months or something. Sorry for the inconvenience." That was frustrating (notice a pattern here?). But I kept my cool. I was more than disappointed, but I decided to look at the bright side and enjoy a nice lunch out with my husband in a part of Dallas I never venture into anymore. And it was nice.
But then, we got home and I watched a few kids that afternoon and there were toys everywhere and the house was filthy, which really gets me, um, uncomfortable. And I was trying to finish painting some door signs I had sold so that I could get all the painting supplies out of the way.
And then we moved our new kitchen table (more on that another day) into the kitchen and we just couldn't arrange it the way we wanted it. We moved furniture for an hour and a half before we finally found a way we (I) liked it. And I had forgotten to make dinner, what with all the kids over here all afternoon and the painting and the furniture moving. So I made the girls some soup. And crackers.
And then, amidst arranging furniture and being frustrated (there's that word again) that it wasn't working, the girls started fussing. And making a huge mess of their soup. And Rhett was screaming his head off because I wasn't holding him. I found myself scrambling to clean soup off of the floor, make a bottle for Rhett and clean all the clutter in the kitchen. I rushed to put the box of crackers back into the pantry and the box fell off of the shelf and the three sleeves of crackers fell out onto the floor. I left them. And slammed the door. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
I went into the living room and actually said, "No. You know what? I need to go back and smash those crackers." And I did. I went into the kitchen, picked up the sleeves of crackers on the pantry floor and threw them, hard, into the trash and then smashed them with my fists. And you know what? As stupid as it was, I felt better. I walked back into the living room, picked up my screaming baby, went to the garage fridge and pulled out a beer and just sat down. And then looked at my husband, rather sheepishly, and said "Sorry." He said "You know what? I don't blame you for being like that becasue you've had lots of bad luck the past couple of days. But never in my life have I seen someone smash crackers in anger. And actually SAY they are going to smash crackers."
And then, what was originally frustration, anger, irritation and a whole bunch of other stuff, was just funny. And ridiculous. But mostly funny.