One of Those Days

I'm sitting here in the post bedtime quiet, listening to the fish tank bubble, smelling my hot tea, and thinking over the day. Days like today are the kind of days that make even the really great parents feel like they're missing something. Today was one of those count down to bedtime, wonder how you're going to make it through, begging for mercy kind of days.

It all started innocently enough, Thomas woke up too early, was sent back to his room until the "bunny clock" told him he could get up (turns out it wasn't set right,) only to return a few minutes later to announce that the numbers said 6:53 and that should be late enough to be awake. He of course was right, so I let him take his iPad to his room, his favorite "big boy weekend" thing to do, and he let me sleep until 9am. Unheard of!! I thought, what a wonderful start to the day!!

We went downstairs for breakfast, to watch Saturday cartoons (on Netflix) and snuggle on the couch. Josh got up and ran out for coffee and pastries, and we seemed to settle into our usual Saturday routine.

I did, however, notice that Thomas was a bit over stimulated. So we decided to turn off the cartoons for a bit before his swimming lesson. At noon-ish, after his pastry and apple juice we headed for the swim club. This is where our day took a 180, and we all spent the next 7 hours on the verge of crying, panic, or just plain melting down. Thomas decided that his swimming goggles didn't fit, were broken, and just plain were the world's largest torture device EVER. Of course he wouldn't get into the pool without them either, so his first meltdown of the day ensued...Full blast, tears, hitting, pulling, screaming, fighting meltdown. It was painful as his parent to watch, and I'm sure confusing for his swim teacher since Thomas is usually so excited about his lesson. We decided to take Thomas home, and try again later since his wonderful teacher offered us a spot later in the afternoon.

As we were leaving the swim club Thomas said he was hungry and wanted to go to get breakfast, so we headed to the small community center near home. The have a nice little cafe that has hash-browns that Thomas loves. He ate, and asked if we could go look for new goggles to replace the ones that were "broken." (they aren't, I assure you.) We agreed since we thought it would help give him the reassurance that he needed for his second try at swimming later in the afternoon.

We went to the sporting goods store and Thomas tried on EVERY SINGLE pair of goggles for kids/youth that the place had in stock, and several models he tried on twice. None of them lived up to Thomas' expectations, or particular sensory needs. In hindsight, I should have realized that Thomas was practically wearing a neon sign that read, "Not Going to Happen Today!!" since he was hiding in racks, seeking a quiet place and cringing and crying with goggles that just didn't "feel right." I don't know if it was my stubbornness, my own anxiety, or what, but I couldn't read him today.

I called and cancelled the "second chance" swim lesson and we headed home to just try to relax for the rest of the day.

I must have lost my mind, but 2 hours later I got the "brilliant" idea to take Thomas out again. This time to the game store and comic store. He again was all over the place, running, not listening, touching everything. And again, I found myself on the the edge of my own meltdown. My heart was racing, I was sweating and basically entering panic attack zone. So I made the decision that it was time to go home. On the way, we decided to stop for take out for dinner. We sent Josh in to get the food, and Thomas lost it! He wanted to go in too, but I knew that for my sanity, and his safety that it would be a bad idea. Do I sat in the car while he told me how much he hated me, how much of a bad mom I am, etc. Thankfully it was short lived, though a bit painful since he was kicking me in the back through the seat throughout his meltdown.

We spent the rest of the evening eating dinner and encouraging quiet independent play. He did well at bedtime routine, and fell asleep quickly. I think the day was as exhausting for him as it was for us. I'm glad that he's finally resting, that the day is at a close. As a very good friend told me today, "tomorrow is another day." I hope tomorrow brings 10 times more joy and 100 times more laughter. After today we could all use it.