Go Away, Day.

Yesterday was a bad day: a disastrous, dangerous dump of a day. I can’t decide which part was worse: watching my baby tip off of a bench near a balcony and coiling with pain at the thought of what could have happened (thank heavens for the railing); when my three year old slapped me in the face, intentionally, multiple times; when I accidentally told the husband that it’s much easier to get along when he’s not around—I didn’t mean it; or when it began to snow. Never mind. It was definitely the balcony scene.

My mind keeps replaying it: heading to the bathroom with niece Bubbins while Jdog and Atrain stayed on the bench with the family, glancing backwards to see the kiddos gathered around baby J; hearing a gasp; spinning around to see the underside of the car seat and exclaiming “Oh my gosh” in the middle of the Children’s choir’s rendition of “As Shepherds Lately Knelt;” wanting to fly instantaneously back over the crowded bench, but watching helplessly as my MIL came to his rescue; irrationally hating myself for ever leaving Jdog’s side; listening to the cacophony of cries break out as the whole family rushed out—far out of the concert; hugging baby J who was completely fine, but super scared; trying to calm Atrain who was also understandably upset about the scene; and congratulating Bubbins who—amidst the chaos—took bathroom matters into her own hands and relieved herself on the (outdoor) steps up to the concert hall.

Wanting to erase all but the last detail of that horrible event, I threw in my dishrag and called it a day. As I drove the 45 minutes to our home with two angry boys yelling from the back seat, it was hard for me not to doubt everything about myself as a mother. I tried so hard to make it a good day, but the universe just wasn’t going to let me win today. I should have known. Any day that begins with lonely tears at 3am probably won’t end well. There’s some sort of poetic justice to it all. I can’t wait to close my eyes and go to sleep wishing this day would just go away.