They Say It's a Virtue

{via Martha}

It started last night.  W went to bed and I treated myself to a bowl of air popped popcorn with real butter and salt.  I inherited my love of this treat from my mom.  So good.  Nothing quite like it.  I fended off Lucy long enough to eat, well, the entire bowl, which feat made me quite thirsty.  And nothing complements salty popcorn quite like the sweet burn of my drink of choice:  a fizzy, no cal., caffeinated delight.  It was after 9:00 p.m. and I second-guessed my desire for said beverage, but caved and consumed anyway.

Bad decision.

When it came time for bed, soda was just getting started.  She rocked and rolled until well after midnight...so I did too.  W has been under the weather since Friday, which means several less-than-stellar nights of sleep.  Last night was no different.  Instead of getting the rest I'd hoped for, I was up several times with the boy in the hours following the caffeinated reprieve.  At 8:00 a.m., I was kicking myself.  I admit I'm not the most pleasant person when I'm overly tired.

W's refusal to eat breakfast should have been the first indication of where the day was going.  He didn't even want the fruity smoothie (which did taste a big odd today), and instead threw strawberries all over the floor and fed eggs to Lucy.  Awesome.

Post breakfast, we headed out for a walk.  Walking outside was like hitting a brick wall; it's hot!  Undeterred, I strapped W in the stroller and we headed down the driveway.  The Bob seemed a bit lopsided and I discovered a tire was completely flat.  Again, undeterred, we went back up the driveway and pulled out the bike pump.  Apparently Dave's pump is more advanced than I can handle (Is that even possible?  It's a pump!).  After I wrestled the tube cover off, I couldn't get the blasted pump to pump.  Really?  Yes, really.  It just continued to hiss and hiss as I pumped in vain, at which point Lucy freaked out and proceeded to poop all over the garage floor.  Really?  Really?!?!  Cue throwing in of the towel.

My VTs came later that morning. I tried to mask my sour mood.  But you know how sometimes you just can't fake smiling?  Yeah.  One of those.  Regardless, their message was becoming more and more relevant as the day continued.

After they left, W was no longer interested in his nap, or his lunch for that matter.  Instead of sulking, we headed out to run some errands.  We perused the aisles of Target, threw in some bubbles and other stuff, then headed out to the car.  Keys.  Keys?  Where are they?  Keys?  Yes, this was really happening.  Someone please punch me.

We walked out to the car.  No keys in sight.  The heat.  Oh, the heat.  We headed back inside and THANKFULLY someone had picked up my stray key and handed it in to the customer service.  Meltdown (physically and emotionally) averted!

W fell asleep on the way home.  I sucked in all the cool air I could from the AC.  It felt good.  I needed to chill out.  It was then that I remembered my VTs lesson from this morning.  Patience.

Patience isn't learned when baby is sleeping, dog obeys commands, or hubs picks up his shoes without asking.  It is learned when baby is launching fistfulls of spaghetti squash on to the floor you just cleaned, dog is losing control of her bowels, and hub's shoes dot the house.

Patience, Kate.  Patience.

We pulled into the garage.  I quietly open and closed my door and opened W's door, trying to keep him from waking.  I quietly unbuckled him and began to pull him from the car.  But I couldn't.  I was stuck.  My hair was now stuck on the hanger hook in the car.  Had my mouth not been inches from W's face, I may have slung a line of bad words into the air.  Instead I just thought them.

I obviously haven't learned patience, just yet.

But I have learned something.  Two things.

• Patience is a virtue.  One not so easily learned.  But one well worth achieving.
• (and perhaps equally as important) Caffeinated beverages are not to be consumed after 8:00 p.m.  To do otherwise is a punishable offense.  Self-inflicted punishment.  

I'm heading outside to think about what I've done.  I'll be sweating it out.  Perhaps when I come back inside, I will have learned my lessons.