When the Day is a Bust

 

 

Today was a bust.  I was honestly being a little spontaneous.  I had thought of taking the kids to the zoo last night.  But this morning I committed to the idea.  I was up at six, read my Bible, and skipped my workout so that we could all get ready and out the door at a decent time.  I packed snacks. I remembered the drinks.  Loaded up the stroller.  Reminded everyone to use the potty.

 

By then I was pretty exhausted.  But we hit the road.

 

Fifteen minutes down the interstate, someone has to go potty.  I didn't figure it was very serious since we had all just gone.  But five minutes later, we stop at a (nice) gas station and I discover she's soaked.  I brought extra clothes, but the car seat is another thing.  I don't even have a towel to cover it up.  So the only thing I can do is turn around and go back home.  Hose off the car seat and try my best not to have a pity party that our plans are broken.

 

The day's going to be long.  My husband is gone on four day hike.  This is Day One.  The sun is gloriously warm, it's a perfect day to be outside, but I just want to crawl back into bed and hide.  Cry a little.  Maybe a lot.

 

Cause it's not just a wet car seat, ya know?

 

And it wasn't just a day at the zoo.

 

It's just constantly trying to figure this thing out, day after day after day. 

 

What are we doing here?

 

Am I totally blowing it as a mom?

 

Why am I so sad?

 

Can I possibly ever do enough?

 

I want to salvage the day.  My son asks me if we can make monster bubbles.  We need a wire hanger and some yarn to make a giant wand and I remember that I bought two one liter bottles of bubbles. Sure, we can make them. 

 

 We all have a lot of fun creating huge bubbles and watching them contort through the air and pop on our head or against one another.  One bubble splits into two or even three.  Sometimes two collide and become one.

 

One guess how many bottles of bubbles didn't get spilled.

 

They look at me, faces stricken.  They expect me to freak. Cause, hey, I do that sometimes, over small things.  Like two bottles of spilled bubbles.

 

But I laugh.  And they ask me why.  I don't really have a good answer for them, except that I just knew.

 

I knew the bubbles would spill.

 

I knew the popsicle would drip on the brand new tee shirt and on my cushion.

 

I knew they'd fight over the wand.

 

I even kinda knew we'd never make it to the zoo today.

 

But I had no idea what else to do.

 

The zoo or bust.

 

I guess it was a bust.

 

Monster bubbles.

 

Playing with the hose.

 

A few books together on the couch.

 

Printing off some coloring pages.

 

Waffles with maple syrup and whipped cream for supper.

 

Popcorn and a movie before bedtime.

 

How many kisses do you want tonight?

 

How bout a million? she says with a mischievous grin.

 

I don't think I can count to a million, I say.

 

A million is much more than ten, she says and sticks her foot in my face so I'll kiss it.

 

And she laughs and laughs.

 

Nobody complained about not going to the zoo.

 

I worry too much.

 

Busted.