A Very Bad Day
It's not often that I have a genuinely terrible day. Like awful awful. Today was one such day. Andrew's out of town, so I'm on my own with the kids and the puppy, which means I was on my own last night (and every night this week) for bedtime with kids and puppy, and the morning (and every morning this week) with kids and puppy, and the logistics I've had down to a science for the past few years are now no longer relevant. Getting dressed and taking the puppy out and getting the girls ready and making lunches and breakfast and etc etc is difficult, to say the least, when I'm on my own. But I did manage to get everyone out the door. Now I just have to do it again three more times till Andrew comes home Friday night.
I got word early in the morning that our seemingly solid tenant for the Soisson House has a whole host of complexities that I obviously cannot detail here but which had me deep in the dark side of Connellsville for most of the day. I ran the gamut of extreme emotions today, from devastated sadness to body-shaking anger to incredulity to despair. I'm still careening through all of these, and I'm exhausted. Weary. Bone-weary.
And yet! I'm alone with two kids and a puppy, so who has time for weariness? I took the puppy out a thousand times, played with her, fed her. When the kids got home from school I made a non-effort at a super early dinner (leftovers!) and then bundled everyone into the car to go to Puppy Kindergarten. Farrah was in a deep, deep nap when it was time to leave, and she was trying to sleep even as I carried her to the car. I was nervous about getting out to Madison, since last time was such a debacle with the highways, but Andrew had written directions out for me and, by following those, I was able to trick the GPS into leading me the way I wanted to go. (Things are supposed to be so "smart" these days, yet the GPS has yet to figure out my driving preferences. *shakes fist*)
Puppy Kindergarten was great--the trainer is really good. Farrah learned to respond to her name, and how to come to me at the command "Farrah, HERE!" which is what we're supposed to use in emergencies, like if she gets loose and chases after something. Farrah was VERY into puppy playtime this week, which tells you how much better she is feeling. In fact, she was so into it that she intimidated two of the other small dogs the trainer had paired her with, thinking she'd feel more comfortable among the smallest of the bunch. But Farrah was leaping and barking, trying her best to "initiate play" (as the trainer explained when I told her, horrified, that I'd never heard her bark that much), while the two smaller puppies cowered. The trainer said next week she'll pair Farrah with one of the livelier pups, perhaps one of the larger doodle puppies, since Farrah was so clearly All In for some real playing. Who would have guessed?
The girls did not sit quietly and watch. They hiss-whispered arguments the entire time. I might have to leave them home with a babysitter next week.
Then it was time to drive home. Again, I was ready to trick the GPS and escape the highways that just about killed me (literally) last week. But, alas, my phone was low on battery, so I had to plug it in, and when you plug a phone into our way-too-smart car, which I hate more and more every day, the sound of the GPS navigator comes through the speaker IF the Bluetooth is connected. Or something. So I plugged it in and--silence. No navigation. I am paralyzed without my GPS. So I pulled over, found the Bluetooth setting. But then, along with the navigation voice, came the sound of my current podcast--a true-crime tale called "Joe Exotic," about horrific big-cat abuse. "JON THEN DISCOVERED WHAT WAS INSIDE THE SHED: THE DOMESTIC CATS THAT WERE ABOUT TO BE FED TO THE SNAKES," droned the podcast. "WHAT is THAT?" the girls shrieked. I tried to turn off the podcast. Turning off the podcast also turned off the navigation. I tried to turn down the volume. I couldn't hear the navigation. "We don't want to listen to this!!!!" shrieked the girls. "I want to hear about cats being snuggled, not eaten by snakes," Greta said angrily. And Lucia: "Is this REAL? Did this actually HAPPEN???"
We made it home. Farrah pooped three times in the yard and I didn't have a bag to clean it up; I marked the spots with bunches of leaves so I could clean it up later. I got everyone to bed. Farrah was the wildest puppy on earth (8pm to 9pm is her wildest time of day--she's insane). I am, as I was at exactly this same time last week, D-O-N-E DONE. I'm on my second glass of wine. Sadly, all the wine in the world won't help me now.
Worst. Day. Ever. My emotional limit has been reached and breached. I cried in the yard while Farrah was pooping. I knew this week as a solo kid- and puppy-parent would bring me to tears at some point, but I expected it to be because of the puppy. I was prepared to cry about the puppy; I expected frustration and exhaustion this week, and I know all that can lead to tears because I've had two infants; I am, to be honest, all-in with the puppy-ness since I knew what we were getting into and I know it's a very brief time in a long lifetime of happy dog-ownership. Does that make sense? I expected to cry but I was at peace with that as just part of the puppy-raising process. How very zen of me. But that wasn't at all why I cried tonight. I didn't expect to cry because of a f***ing GPS, or the phone calls I had today with the gamut of Connellsville-landlording's best and brightest.
This day. This day has done. Me. In.
I got word early in the morning that our seemingly solid tenant for the Soisson House has a whole host of complexities that I obviously cannot detail here but which had me deep in the dark side of Connellsville for most of the day. I ran the gamut of extreme emotions today, from devastated sadness to body-shaking anger to incredulity to despair. I'm still careening through all of these, and I'm exhausted. Weary. Bone-weary.
And yet! I'm alone with two kids and a puppy, so who has time for weariness? I took the puppy out a thousand times, played with her, fed her. When the kids got home from school I made a non-effort at a super early dinner (leftovers!) and then bundled everyone into the car to go to Puppy Kindergarten. Farrah was in a deep, deep nap when it was time to leave, and she was trying to sleep even as I carried her to the car. I was nervous about getting out to Madison, since last time was such a debacle with the highways, but Andrew had written directions out for me and, by following those, I was able to trick the GPS into leading me the way I wanted to go. (Things are supposed to be so "smart" these days, yet the GPS has yet to figure out my driving preferences. *shakes fist*)
Puppy Kindergarten was great--the trainer is really good. Farrah learned to respond to her name, and how to come to me at the command "Farrah, HERE!" which is what we're supposed to use in emergencies, like if she gets loose and chases after something. Farrah was VERY into puppy playtime this week, which tells you how much better she is feeling. In fact, she was so into it that she intimidated two of the other small dogs the trainer had paired her with, thinking she'd feel more comfortable among the smallest of the bunch. But Farrah was leaping and barking, trying her best to "initiate play" (as the trainer explained when I told her, horrified, that I'd never heard her bark that much), while the two smaller puppies cowered. The trainer said next week she'll pair Farrah with one of the livelier pups, perhaps one of the larger doodle puppies, since Farrah was so clearly All In for some real playing. Who would have guessed?
The girls did not sit quietly and watch. They hiss-whispered arguments the entire time. I might have to leave them home with a babysitter next week.
Then it was time to drive home. Again, I was ready to trick the GPS and escape the highways that just about killed me (literally) last week. But, alas, my phone was low on battery, so I had to plug it in, and when you plug a phone into our way-too-smart car, which I hate more and more every day, the sound of the GPS navigator comes through the speaker IF the Bluetooth is connected. Or something. So I plugged it in and--silence. No navigation. I am paralyzed without my GPS. So I pulled over, found the Bluetooth setting. But then, along with the navigation voice, came the sound of my current podcast--a true-crime tale called "Joe Exotic," about horrific big-cat abuse. "JON THEN DISCOVERED WHAT WAS INSIDE THE SHED: THE DOMESTIC CATS THAT WERE ABOUT TO BE FED TO THE SNAKES," droned the podcast. "WHAT is THAT?" the girls shrieked. I tried to turn off the podcast. Turning off the podcast also turned off the navigation. I tried to turn down the volume. I couldn't hear the navigation. "We don't want to listen to this!!!!" shrieked the girls. "I want to hear about cats being snuggled, not eaten by snakes," Greta said angrily. And Lucia: "Is this REAL? Did this actually HAPPEN???"
We made it home. Farrah pooped three times in the yard and I didn't have a bag to clean it up; I marked the spots with bunches of leaves so I could clean it up later. I got everyone to bed. Farrah was the wildest puppy on earth (8pm to 9pm is her wildest time of day--she's insane). I am, as I was at exactly this same time last week, D-O-N-E DONE. I'm on my second glass of wine. Sadly, all the wine in the world won't help me now.
Worst. Day. Ever. My emotional limit has been reached and breached. I cried in the yard while Farrah was pooping. I knew this week as a solo kid- and puppy-parent would bring me to tears at some point, but I expected it to be because of the puppy. I was prepared to cry about the puppy; I expected frustration and exhaustion this week, and I know all that can lead to tears because I've had two infants; I am, to be honest, all-in with the puppy-ness since I knew what we were getting into and I know it's a very brief time in a long lifetime of happy dog-ownership. Does that make sense? I expected to cry but I was at peace with that as just part of the puppy-raising process. How very zen of me. But that wasn't at all why I cried tonight. I didn't expect to cry because of a f***ing GPS, or the phone calls I had today with the gamut of Connellsville-landlording's best and brightest.
This day. This day has done. Me. In.
Comments