Had a Bad Day

5:00 am: thunder and lighting. Reach for the remote to check the weather radar maps. How does one shower and get ready for work during a thunderstorm? If one gets said shower, that leaves only dread for the looming bad commute. What about the annual Easter bonnet parade which is at school today and a sweet spring outfit that is waiting to be put on? Work arrangements have been made so Rob and I can both be there - in this weather??

5:30: just rain now, it's time to play the music and light the lights.

6:00: my rings no longer fit. When exactly did this happen, I wonder as my engagement ring is stuck between my second and third knuckles with no signs of budging. One red and swollen knuckle later, sans rings.

6:25: Lauren is up and singing various versions of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star - she needed about 30-45 minutes more sleep for an optimal mood but so far, so good - let's not create a situation where there isn't one yet, right? I'm supposed to on the road in five minutes, dreaded commute still looming. Of course I head upstairs to get the future American Idol ready for her big day. A minor meltdown over putting said cute sweater over her plain white t-shirt, Daddy sweeps in and saves the morning.

9:30: email from the school - parade is canceled due to nasty weather. Songs and parties and egg hunts with handmade "bonnets" to take place within each classroom, parents still welcome. Call Rob, try to decide best course of action: when there are parades outside and parents all around, it's easy to be there for pictures and memories without disrupting her day with tearful cries of abandonment because we have suddenly appeared in her day and are now leaving without her. Coming into her classroom in close quarters and then leaving would be too much for each of us - Lauren would be an inconsolable mess, Rob and I would feel guilty for the next six hours until we see her again. We decide not to go and I feel guilty for the next six hours.

4:10: still at work, wondering where the day went, put the carnage of the day away until tomorrow because after all, tomorrow is another day. Another bad commute ahead, leaving ten minutes late makes a big difference, especially in the rain.

5:00: finally arrive at school, 30 minutes later than normal but still excited to hear all about Lauren's day, this was going to be the highlight of my day. She is without aforementioned cute sweater and in plain white t-shirt, no surprises there. Her cubby is overflowing with a little Easter basket full of bright plastic eggs, baggies of bunny cookies and another cute bag holding a cup filled with goodies. She wants it all and is grabbing it out of my hands, "Give me eggs. Give me that cup. I want to carry it all." I give her the cup with goodies to carry, it is tied up and that should work so that we can make it to the car before the skies open up again. Wrong. She parks herself at the table and begins working on the ties so she can get to the loot inside. I'm cajoling and bribing to get her out of the room and on our way home but it falls on deaf ears. There's no deterring her at this point so I gently take it away and say she can have it all when we get home, every last bit of it. Big tears, loud wailing - I'm mildly embarrassed but we are ten feet closer to the door, only three feet to go. Suddenly my sweet little girl is on the floor, kicking and screaming at decibel-shattering levels so that now even the poor teacher is speechless - she said she's never seen Lauren like this before. Unfortunately I have - it's the drama reserved just for Mommy and Daddy over choosing the wrong cup or serving the wrong juice, as if we are ruining her entire life. I hand all of the stuff back to the teacher, and am prepared to pick her up and carry her out to the car, but now we've created a scene and teachers are coming from all over the building to see what's going on. Lauren is hyper-ventilating and I ask Kim, the woman at the front desk who is awesome and I adore, for a bag so I can get the child and her treasure of the building as quickly as possible. I am beyond mild embarrassment at this point.

5:15: still wailing, I wonder if she even knows why anymore. Rob calls to check on things and she gets as silent as a church mouse, listening quietly as I recount the whole story to him. I mean, not even a sniffle from the backseat during the whole conversation, it's almost like the tears and theatrics never even happened. I hang up and she wants to talk about how she gets M&M's for "going" on the potty, except she didn't and I have the sheet from school saying she just "tried" several times, no successes. More desperate wails and tears. I am calmly saying that we can try again when we get home, she still gets M&M's if she goes at home. No use. I give up. Bedtime just got moved to 6:30.

5:30: my now-calm child is talking a mile-a-minute about her day and playing with Play-doh while I make dinner. My nerves are still shot, a nice glass of wine would be good about now. Oh, that's right, not for four more weeks.

6:00: Rob is home, minor meltdowns over coming to her seat to eat, about receiving peaches instead of mandarin oranges. Rob asks her about her day, she says she "threw a big fit". He asks why and the answer is simple: "Because I'm a fit-thrower." Hmm, I wouldn't label her that way, but I had to turn away because it was funniest thing that I had heard all of this long, yucky day.

9:40: I'm officially done but Rob is still logged on and working from his laptop with no indication of being done soon.

We all get a do-over tomorrow, right Scarlet?