Frenzied Friday
Before the dance recital rehearsal there had been no nap for the little ones, dance tights found in the hamper dirty and grass-stained instead of clean and in the dance bag. During the rehearsal: infant poop on the front of my shirt and shorts, portable DVD player not working, wearing a screaming baby while trying to wrangle a wriggly two year old to do costume changes for her dance recital rehearsal, and ordering my 5 year old around as my personal "go-fer." Yeah, that was my Friday. It made me seriously reconsider why I thought it would be a good idea to put my two year old in a dance recital. When I signed her up months and months ago, all I thought was, "Oooooh, it will be sooooo cute." I was definitely not thinking that on Friday night.
That night I was hot, sweaty, frustrated, and in a terrible mood. I kept waiting for my husband to show up to help me out. Unbeknownst to me he had texted several times and left several messages on my phone. I never heard my phone signal that I had messages. It might have had something to do with me running around the auditorium like a crazy lady trying to keep track of all my kids, trying to figure out why the DVD player wouldn't work so my son could sit contentedly during his sister's dress rehearsal, and (later) the screaming baby I was wearing. Some of the moms helped out and held the baby while I ran around to retrieve items and change Bug in her costumes and I'm grateful. Boogs was really, really good considering I didn't have anything to entertain him. He kept himself busy by making new friends with the brothers of the other dancers and looking over their shoulders while they played games on their handheld gaming systems. He ended up being my right hand as we carted stuff from the van to the auditorium and back again. By the time I had loaded the kids in the van for the ride home, I was exhausted and starving and just plain mad.
Hubby had been home waiting for us because I had never called him back. I did call on the way home to send him to pick up food for the kids for dinner. I couldn't stop on the way home because the two year old had to use the potty and I didn't think I would make it in time if I had to stop for food. When I pulled up I saw that he had been enjoying a cold beverage, reading a book on the front steps, and (dare I say it?), relaxing! Gah!!!! It was the last straw for me. Here he was enjoying the gorgeous weather and I was again, beyond exhausted. I was so angry I almost threw his bottle across the street. I tried really, really, really hard to not jump down his throat when he walked in the house. Before he walked in the door with dinner, my exhausted two year old had been screaming at me for 10 minutes and I.was.done.
When he walked in I walked myself up to our room and nursed the baby while I could mercifully zone out in front of the television. When he brought up the kids for baths, I walked downstairs. I needed some "me" time desperately. But that's when it happened. It slipped out. As I walked down the stairs I made some snarky remark over my shoulder and he tried to be patient. But I jabbed again and again until he had no choice but to lose his temper and make a snarky remark back to me. And then I started to cry. It's actually what I needed. I needed to vent in some way and his remark made me cry and that led to me falling asleep on the couch while he put the kids to bed. A sleep I so desperately needed. By the time he woke me and I headed up to bed, I was better, while at the same time remorseful and embarrassed.
I hate fighting. I hate how I acted. The simple solution would have been to eat something during the recital or on the ride home. It didn't even cross my mind that my blood sugar must have been dipping and that I was hungry. Low blood sugar makes me stupid. Once I had eaten something it seemed ridiculous how upset I had been.
I apologized, he apologized and we're better. I'm fortunate that I have an understanding husband (and sister in law. I snarked at her too, through facebook. At that point someone should have slapped me). In speaking with another one of my SILs this afternoon she pointed out that my husband (her brother) is usually very helpful and not to have his help that day was hard for me. She was and is right. It's the curse of the helpful husband. You're so used to his faithful help, that when it fails to come, you find life just a bit harder.
Even though Saturday was just as busy, it was not as frenzied. Hubby and I found our rhythm and the hand off for the various activities went pretty smoothly for a saner Saturday. I'll share that in my next post. Bug's recital was fun and I loved watching her on the stage. And yes, I'd do the recital again. Pictures to come.
