The Terrible, Horibble, No Good Very Bad Day
Yesterday was a bad day. A really bad day.
I mean, I’m not talking the worst of days. Nobody died, thank goodness. Nobody (seems to) want to divorce me or anything. There wasn’t a plane crash or a basement flood. So believe me, I understand that things could be worse. Things (generally) can always be worse.
Still, it wasn’t great.
The day started off under a cloud. My daughter has been having some trouble socially at school. I had sent her off there knowing that the school counselor and the principal would be pulling her out of class to speak to her, based on the email I sent over the weekend. Without going into a whole lot of detail, basically, my kid had a fight with one person, who told another, and then another, and before the texting was over, it was five against one (the one being my kid). And the five? They said they were going to “get others on their side” claiming they already have “fifteen” and they challenged my kid to “see if you’ll have any friends at all after this.”
There was swearing. There was name calling. There was basically all manner of Seventh Grade Girl Ugliness. Whatever. But when you tell my kid that you’re going to get a gang of others all up in this shit? It’s time for me to get the school involved.
So while I was waiting to hear from the school, I went about my business. Made myself a healthy breakfast. Walked the dog. Did some online workouts (Thanks to Fitmixer, I am super sore today…..they are pretty good!). Went about my work on some websites and a volunteer gig or two (I apparently haven’t learned the art of saying no). All in all, things weren’t terrible. I started some pizza dough in the breadmaker. The usual.
A friend encouraged me to call one of the parents of one of the kids involved. I did. It wasn’t terrible. She changed my perspective slightly, I’d like to think I changed hers more. I don’t think she was quite aware of how badly things had degenerated. She certainly wasn’t aware of All The Curse Words. Or the ganging up threats. She did acknowledge that five against one had to feel pretty darn lonely. And she said she’d speak to her kid. All in all, not terrible.
I had lunch. Did more work. I waited. Went into the basement to get something and smelled the telltale reek of a dead mouse in a trap. If you don’t live in the country like I do, you may be shocked about me having a mouse in a trap in my basement. Everyone I know has this problem; we’re not dirty people. It’s called “The Active Season” when it gets chilly at night and the mice try to find a warm place. This is why we have traps. They never get anywhere but the cinderblock ledge. Because of the traps. Ick.
After successful dead mouse removal, it was nearly the end of the school day. Still nothing. Five minutes before dismissal, I picked up the phone.
Forty minutes later, I sat on my sofa, stunned. The signature quote from the school counselor? “I wouldn’t want to be your daughter, not in a million years. This is a terrible, terrible situation for her. I may be her best friend at the school for a while.” Thank goodness my kid wasn’t here to hear it. She was at play rehearsal after school. Thank God.
(I’m getting to the point, I swear)
While we’re eating dinner in the forty five minute span between play practice and soccer practice (“I don’t really want to talk about it all Mom”), my little guy mentions he isn’t hungry. Alarm bells sound. He’s never not hungry (just like me). Except.
For when he’s sick.
I run for the thermometer and pop it in his mouth at the same time he curls up on the sofa. I look at the read out: 103.1.
I was supposed to attend a big conference the next day while he was at school. A conference an hour away. That had already been paid for. And was non refundable. Husband? He’s out of town until Friday.
I have a super sick kid and another kid who is so ostracized at school that even the school counselor agrees she doesn’t have any friends. And I’m all alone in dealing with it because my husband is out of town and three time zones away. It takes him two hours to call me back after I send him the text detailing the situation.
Well of course, there isn’t one. Certainly not the four glasses of wine I downed from 8 to 10pm. Definitely not the 9 cookies I scared down, grabbing them a few at a time every time I refilled my glass. Granted, they were the healthy cookies I cooked with butterbeans and applesauce fron Roni’s site last Friday, but still. 9 of them weren’t exactly within my calorie range, no matter how healthy they were.
I am sitting on my sofa at 11:30, still waiting to exercise. I listen to my little guy watching TV on the sofa and feel like I don’t want to leave him alone long enough to get in even a mile. I could do another of those Fitmixer workouts. I could do yoga. I could do Something.
But I don’t want to. I am tired. Mentally and physically. I feel heavy and sad and awful.
I’ll get through, I know. I always do. This too shall pass. It’s not the worst thing.
But right now, in this moment, sitting on this couch, it still feels like a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.