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Lost the Battle, Not the War!

Photo: Flickr CC: Krystian Olszanski

There I am. Standing in the budget section of the grocery store. Arms piled high in frozen dinners I’ll be lucky enough to enjoy, let alone cook, the remainder of the week. I’ve missed at least two shifts in two days of my two part time jobs, and these are the groceries this week. The few things I splurge on are fresh fruit and yogurt for Zoey.

And there I am. It’s 4:00 pm and she is running about forty feet down the long aisle screaming “No!!! Mine!!!!!”.

She’s strewn raspberries along her path. A few people are looking at me obviously wondering why I’m not disciplining her and a few others are wondering why I’m not chasing her and bargaining with her.

All I can do was choose between laugh and cry. I’m defeated.

It’s been a long couple of days and I’ll need my energy for the dinner-time battle, the bath-time war, and the bed-time hell. So I very calmly look at her and stoically reply, “Dude… Here’s the rest of the berries, just come here.”

She walks proudly towards me knowing damn well she had won. And everyone looks at me like I am the biggest Pushover Mom in the world. I don’t care.

It all started two days ago. She had a doctor appt. I left work a half day to bring her. That appointment took all afternoon.

She was miserable from being poked and prodded, which I understood and didn’t blame her. She napped VERY late and therefore went to bed late. Which means I went to bed late.

Does that mean I slept in in the morning? No.

At 3:55 my dog decided to be ridiculously loud and obnoxious. I knew it was either get up and try to diffuse the dog situation or risk waking her up. So I got up. My fiancé half asleep said in the sweetest voice “want me to get up?” Yes. Yes goddammit!

But he fell back asleep and I really wanted to punch him in the face in that instant but instead went and made a coffee. I wasn’t really mad at him nor had a reason to be. There was no reason for him to get up. I guess misery just lives company.

So here it is Tuesday. The day she comes to work with me. To my office. With paperwork. My office now resembles a mid afternoon in a daycare center. I left it that way. She still was in a crappy mood apparently and my head hurt by noon from the screaming. Doctor called. We have to be back there at 2:30. Ugh. Another 45 minute ride one way with her screaming and miserable so she can be poked and prodded again.

Another two hours at the pediatrician and her shrill screech is deafening. My brain is mush. I have two jobs I’m falling behind on. I still don’t know why my kid isn’t feeling well, I haven’t slept, and realize I haven’t eaten.

Gotta stop at the grocery store. Gotta make it through this last chore…

And so there I was. In the grocery store. Giving in to my temper tantrum two year old without blinking an eye. Judge me. I don’t care.

And here I am now. In my bed. And my kid is asleep. On time! I managed to save my energy to make bath time fun. Dinner yummy. And bed time a breeze.

I have no regrets.

Photo: Flickr CC: Krystian Olszanski

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