Worst Day Ever

I guess it ended up ok. But I was really messed up today. At one point I called Tim and cried because Kenna was screaming in the car. I thought I was losing my mind. The only thing I could think to do was turn the car around, drive back to town, drop Kenna off (and Lizza while I was at it) back with Tim, and then drive away and never come back. I think my hormones are off, because that is crazy and not near my normal reality. I thought about it for awhile (like 2 minutes) -- leaving forever -- and it turned out not to be what I actually wanted. So, here I am. Still a mom and still a Fellow. I eventually did pull the car over, though. I had to take lots of deep breaths, but then it came to me. I didn't yell. I got out of the car and went around to Kenna's seat. I took her out and just held her and hugged her on the side of the road while Lizza continued to call from the car, "More gum!!" Kenna and I just cried. We talked it out and then got back in our seats. I handed out the damn gum -- which was the root of the original issue -- and we drove to the park.

It wasn't really Kenna's fault -- or the gum's. I think potty training in a tiny house took a lot out of me. The week turned long. I went from potty training straight to work for three days and then it was supposed to be my Friday fun day, but there was no fun to be had. There was so much I wanted to do alone -- like yoga and shopping. But I felt like I'd been away from Kenna for the entire week. I wanted everything and nothing at the same time. I wanted a hike with my husband, but I didn't want a sitter. I wanted a hike with Kenna and Lizza, but I did not want to hear about the (tiny) cut on Kenna's foot for an hour while we hiked. I wanted to have money. I wanted to spend money. I wanted to take a walk in Ridgway, but the stroller didn't fit in either car because of boxes and unpacked stuff. It all started to come crashing down -- my feelings, not the boxes.

I knew it was coming, but I did not know how to stop it. When you want to be alone and with everyone at the same time- there is rarely a solution. I know in the end it is my fault for not keeping my emotions and hormones and whatever in check, but I blame the urine. Getting peed on all day for 5 days is a lot to soak in -- pun intended, of course. I also blame my clown child who knows perfectly well how to pee on the can but prefers to do a comedy bit during most encounters -- looking for the laugh and getting a glare from her wicked witch of the west mother. She thinks the toilet paper is hilarious. I think pee on the floor is gross -- we have a conflict of interest. So it wore me down, and I woke up with nothing left this morning.

And as mentioned, the next thing knew, I was crying in the side of the road. That was the peak of the angry/crazy/tired/confused. It got better from there -- but it really took a surprisingly long time. I felt like I was recovering from the flu. It would be less embarrassing to recover from the flu. Recovering from "yourself" is so hard to explain. I managed to pull it together for our first on location pee in the potty, which is a huge milestone. Then we played with Charlotte and her dad at the park. (We met them at the doctor when Kenna got the cast off and ran into them at the park -- like a 10 year reunion. Kenna was in love.) But after we got home, I dropped everyone off, watched Grey's (didn't help), and headed back to Ridgway -- alone -- for some actual retail therapy. I'm sorry that this remedy is real, but it is. It mostly worked. By the time I got home, I was ready to start our family adventure to Silverton.

Not sure why this move has brought out the junior high in me, but I feel a little unstable and a little crazy. I think i just used to have more familiar ways and people to diffuse this kind of pressure build up. Friday afternoons at Megan's house. Trips to Costco. Quick walk around the block. I just need new ways to release without losing it. So, it was in fact the worst day in Colorado so far. But it wasn't Colorado's fault. In fact, I like that Colorado is real. If I had a hundred days in row like that, I still want to be buried in CO.