Today reached stress levels of epic proportions. It began with SP waking up in a terrible, emotional mood. She was pouty because I wasn’t able to tuck her in last night. I went to an essential oils class at the birth center last night that ran past her bedtime. (More about that later.) To add to the pouty attitude, she was in a “I do it myself” attitude also. It made for a frustrating morning getting us our the door for school. Once we were at school, she was to practice tracing her name. Suddenly this usually simple task became too much for her. She became incredibly frustrated, which resulted in a complete meltdown. I had to take her in the bathroom, kicking and screaming, to calm her down with breathing techniques; hoping it would snap her out of the funk. Meanwhile, LB proceeded to spit up all down the front of me (one con to baby wearing). During all of that, I received a call from Emory letting me know they couldn’t change LB’s appointment next month (although I’ve been trying to change it since October!) due to being booked. I have explained to this department several times that we live several hours away and have another child. We simply cannot have a mid-week, late afternoon appointment. (Not only would SP be missing 2 days of school, my husband missing 2 days of work (unpaid), but we would be getting back home around midnight) This concept is apparently a mind blowing one to soak in. Another irritating thing is that this department is not communicative. I have asked on more than one occasion the reason for this appointment. Are we finding out some test results? Does LB need more tests ran? Why do we need to travel all this way? No one has a clue to any of these answers. As you can imagine, I am already stressed to my eyeballs dealing with these people.
If that wasn’t stressful enough, I decide to try to find a therapist for this PPD. Well, guess what?! Our insurance only approves 3 people nearby. One is an eating disorder therapist, one isn’t accepting patients, and the other has no online history. (Which to me, raises a red flag that the person’s therapy techniques could be out-dated or ineffective. There isn’t any review or a website with a bio on her.) Now, I have to re-evaluate that plan.
At this point in my morning, I need to vent and calm down. I take LB for a walk and call my mom. That calmed me down a little, just in time to go pick up SP from school. She throws a huge tantrum because she wants to stay to eat lunch with her friends. That ends with my basically carrying her and LB to the car, as she is crying and fighting me. My emotional state is barely hanging on. Honestly, I’m ready to lose my shit at this point. I’m driving back home, with both kids scream crying, and this idiot in a construction truck pulls right out in front of me. Then proceeds to coast to a snail’s pace to a curb in front of a house being built. As I try to go around him, he decides to floor it and jerk back over. I speed up to finish passing him before he side swipes me. Plus, we were coming up on two cars parked on the curb and a car coming towards us. The truck then stops two houses down from the first one he stopped at. As I begin to slow back down because I noticed I got up to 40mph in a 25mph zone; that car coming towards us…was a cop. And he whips around and lights me up. At this point, I am right next to a parking lot and coast into a parking spot. When he whipped around, I was back down to 30mph. It was the cherry on top of the ice cream. I have my window down and license ready for the officer when he walks up. He tells me he clocked me going 44 in a 25, if I disagreed with his radar we could check it, and then asks why I was speeding. I just look at him like, “Really, you don’t hear my two kids screaming their heads off?” I politely explained to him my dad is a retired officer, I don’t want to waste his time, I believed his radar was correct, and that I was just an overwhelmed mom trying to get my two hungry and tired kids home. I didn’t realize my speed. He ran my info and I saw him reach for the dreaded ticket binder. I texted my husband so he could cool down before he got home. I was just sitting there, waiting on my ticket of doom, wondering how much I’ve cost us…and my emotional thread broke. I began hysterically crying along with the kids. I just couldn’t keep it together anymore. I hear his car door shut and I am trying to compose myself as much as possible (which wasn’t much at all). He walks up and says, “I’m giving you a written warning.” I burst into tears again. “He’s like ma’am, It’s not big deal. You don’t have to go to court or anything. Ma’am, are you ok?” And before I knew it I was like Lorelai Gilmore and word vomiting all of my stress upon this poor officer. I told him no, I wasn’t ok and proceeded to tell him about my issues with Emory, LB’s PKU, my PPD, SP’s horrible meltdowns, not being able to find a therapist, not having family around to help out, and getting pulled over was just too much for this overwhelmed mom today. The officer just gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look, handed me my license and paperwork, and hightailed it out of there. Meanwhile, the kids are still crying. I drove back home, fed the kids, put them down for nap and cried while eating my ham sandwich. Then LB woke up early. I held him while he catnapped and I cried some more. I literally have no more tears to cry out. I’ve completely ran out.
And that was my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. And I want to move back to Alabama, live on a farm, clean horse stalls, and diffuse my essential oils everyday.
Actually, all I want is sleep. I’ve diffused some lavender and calmed down enough for some possible sleep. Let’s hope for a better tomorrow.