Before anybody draws conclusions on my title, no I am not giving up. I am, however, waving it for today. You see, my house started out clean (mostly). After the day’s activities, let’s just say Hurricane Matthew didn’t cause as much damage as Hurricane Rae has. I have couch cushions all over the floor. Folded clothes have been unfolded for the second time. A relatively clean bedroom has been littered with paper and markers. My kitchen has dishes scattered on the counters and in the sink.
Let me re-cap our day from wake up time til now. At 7:30 am, I was drinking my coffee on the porch while Rae jumped on a wet trampoline. At 7:45 I am walking around picking up the scattered toys in the yard from the past two days. At 8:00 we are coming in for Rae to get a bath since rain water isn’t clean and she feels “icky”. At 8:15 we are cooking scrambled eggs together. This leads to a discussion on baking something for dessert. (Dessert after breakfast is acceptable on rainy Saturdays in my opinion.) Our muffin mix didn’t require eggs (which had to be the main ingredient) so we settled on a chocolate cake mix. This was the calmest she has been all day. And let me just say, her cake turned out better than most of mine have because she had to tip toe so it wouldn’t crack. Apparently it’s okay if mine crack. While waiting on the cake to cool we went back outside (at about 9:45) to jump together on the trampoline. Keep in mind my house is still fairly clean at this point. I’m thinking, “Today is gonna be a good day! No meltdowns, no tantrums, just good times and fun.”
Fast forward a little to about 1:30 pm. We are in the checkout line at the grocery store. She doesn’t have my undivided attention because the register has frozen and I need to make sure my payment has gone through before leaving. She yells at me, she keeps picking up candy that they have strategically placed next to the card reader, and shoves back from the counter causing the buggy to roll into the path of other customers. I had a “moment” where I saw red. I popped her arm and (a little loudly) told her to stop. Cue the waterworks. I get glances of pity from the cashier, other customers pretend they didn’t see me pop her, and FINALLY my payment goes through. I rush out of the store while trying not to lose it on Rae. She knows what she did was wrong. She keeps apologizing through the tears until we hit sunlight. She fixes her attitude and sits quietly while I unload the groceries into the car. The ride home is relatively peaceful for what we just went through.
Skip a little farther ahead to around 2:30 pm. The munchies kick in and she’s eating anything and everything she can get her hands on. I have a pack of ham that has maybe two pieces left in it. A bag of cereal is half gone. The ice-cream carton has clearly seen better days. At 3:00 pm the hunger wave passes (for now). This is when Hurricane Rae hit my living room. I gave up on the never-ending cycle of picking up the cushions. Most have found their way back to the couch when she decides she wants to sit in a different place. I have a soaked towel on the kitchen floor from her “Wet Head” game. A wooden spoon is resting next to the tv from where she was using it as a magic stick. (Thanks, Wallykazam!) And here it is a little after 4:00 pm. She is perched on the couch watching Blaze while I type away on here. Finally the quiet time has come. We both need it to face the remaining few hours before bedtime.
My house will get cleaned. The toys and cushions will get put back in their place. We will mess the kitchen up again while cooking dinner together. For now, I’m going to enjoy cartoons with my kid. I may wave my white flag every now and then, but I enjoy every bit of this wild ride.
**This is an un-medicated day for Rae. They have been better and they have been way worse. We are working as a team to make life easier for her one step at a time. If you see me in the grocery store (or anywhere else for that matter) looking like I haven’t brushed my hair that morning and wearing yoga pants with a tee, this is the route we have chosen to try for that day: non-medicated.