The Big Picture

So I almost killed my 5 year old today.  I had one of those "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!!!" parenting moments in the Costco parking lot.  You know, the moments when you are so filled with frustration, your knuckles are turning white,  your pulse quickens,  and beads of sweat start to gather at your temples?

 Good times.

I think when good parents feel overwhelmed,  they inhale deeply and count to ten.  These good parents can then collect their wits, and parent calmly.  But this is just purely speculation on my part.  I wouldn't know, because I don't fall into that category.

 Bad parents, like me, just yell out loud WHY we are frustrated in the Costco parking lot, as the onlookers seated at the Starbucks patio, sip their lattes and wonder quietly, "What the hell is that psychotic mother yelling at her kid about?"

So let me share what happened today...

But first let me just say that the Walsh fam has been "on the go" for summertime fun for about 4 weeks straight. A camping trip, with several beach days, followed by Raging Waters, and hours spent at  Happy Hollow.  And don't forget swimming at the Elks Club.  Throw in a 5 trip to Chico, followed by a 4 day visit up to Santa Rosa to see the folks, and well...

 I think it's safe to say, that Mama is feeling a bit tired.  Mama is trying to eek out every possible opportunity of good times before school starts.   Mama has lost her mind.  It is in moments like these, that I realize that I often forget the "Big Picture".  Which is exactly what happened today.

As I stepped out of my truck, and unbuckled Charlotte, Cosette bounded happily out of my seat and onto the ground.  As I placed Charlie on my hip, but before I had time to grab my purse, Cozy locked the truck.  So there we were.  Locked out.  Standing on the blacktop of the parking lot.

"SHIT!!!!!   SHIT!!!!!  SHIT!!!!" I belted out.

Seeing my anger, Cosette's crocodile tears came in a free flow, who explained, between sobs, "I was helping Mama."

"I KNOW!! I KNOW! (followed by a long pause)  I know, Cozy. (short pause) SHIT!!!"

As I  marched into Starbucks, to ask to use the phone (because my cell just DIED, but that's a whole nother story), I  promptly told Cosette to sit at a table, saying,   "Mom is just really mad right now.  I need a minute."

After calming down, I began to see the Big Picture. Charlotte was on my hip.  Thankfully, she was not in the car in 100 degree weather, with the windows rolled up.  Tom was home.  He came to us.  Lovingly.  Willingly.  He stopped what he was doing to rescue us.

I explained to Cozy, "We are so lucky that Charlotte is safe, and that Daddy can come and help us, okay?  No more locking the car door without permission."  She nodded her head, as if she understood,  dried tear marks making tracks down her tanned cheeks.

Because the Big Picture was that this was simply an inconvenience. We were going to be late for a play date.  So why is it, that I lose my mind when these types of things happen?

Lately, I've noticed that Charlotte is more than a little distracted while nursing.  If someone speaks, walks into the same room, or so much as breathes in her direction, she flips her head to investigate her surroundings...all while holding onto my breast as if it's in a vice.   She's also taken to pulling my hair, slapping my face, grabbing my lips, and pinching my armpit fat.

These kind of special moments make for interesting bonding time.  Some days I feel like I need to nurse her in a sound proof padded room.  Maybe if I was wearing a special neoprene outfit, leaving only my nipple exposed, while Charlotte's hands were bound, we would be a more efficient pair.

But then I am reminded of her failure to even latch to nurse after she was born.  So many tears...hers and mine both.  Frustration over not expecting there to be ANY problemos whatsoever with the last babe.  The
Big Picture:  sometimes nursing isn't glamorous, but it's also fleeting.  And that's why when I come home from work on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, I wake her out of a sound sleep, just to nurse her.  The clock is ticking, and I get sad knowing there's not much time left to nurse with this one.  The abuse also tends to also be less violent at this hour :)

Recently I drove 2 hours home from a visit with my folks.  You know how it is when you get home from a road trip...there's the unloading, and putting away of clothes, toys, and food.  And I tend to become a bit anxious over getting it all done, knowing good and well, that my fridge is empty, and Costco is calling my name.  But not before Charlotte is screaming for booby.

Imagine my surprise, as I walked into my bathroom to hurriedly put away my toilertries, and discovered dirt all over my floor.  And dirt all over my counter.  And dirt coating my bathtub.  Shocked, I couldn't comprehend it...didn't I just clean this bathroom before we left?  Tom was the only one here.  Hmmm...

Then it hit me:  Someone, most likely my darling husband, had used the blower, but had forgotten to shut the window.  Thus, bringing all of Willow Glen into our bathroom.  Immediately, I fumed.  Well, as if it's not enough to do already around here...the hell if I'm gonna clean this bathroom again!  He did it.  He can clean it.

Then the Big Picture slowly began to take place, yet once again.  How lucky am I to have a husband who even blew our backyard?  Who wants to make our yard a sacred place for our family?

Yep, there was a little dirt in my bathroom.  I cleaned it up.  I used about 35 paper towels and a lotta Mr.Clean and Windex, to do it.  But it was fixable.

And  I am lucky.