Here’s to Winning

Before I even start this post, I am going to say that I know I am not alone.

I had this picture in my mind of what it would be like when I had children. I thought I would be able to handle any situation that was thrown my way with compassion and patience and understanding. There was never any thought that I would be a parent that spent their time yelling.

But here I am. Yelling.

Losing my shit over something so simple, so small and pointless in the realm of the real world. But that doesn’t stop my blood pressure from rising to unhealthy highs.

Toothpaste??!!!!!

How the hell does that stuff get everywhere. Everyday.

Its magic. You wipe it away and it reappears. Sometimes in the same exact places: the bottom of the sink, the counter tops surrounding the sink, the cabinets in the bathroom or the mirrors. I have learned in my time as a mother that these are all expected places to find toothpaste.

The problem comes when I have five minuets to get my child down to the bus, and neither one of us are completely ready to be seen in public. So I finish with her and send her to get her coat and her book bag. I pick up my brush for one last attempt to tame my crazy bed head, in order to not cause the bus driver to run off the road at the sight of me.

The brush has some resistance as it runs threw my hair, and not the normal your-hair-is-a-tangled-mess resistance. This was different so I look down at the brush.

And that’s when is see it. A glowing blue glob of Berry Fresh toothpaste down the middle of my brush.

I think I psychically started to shake as I screamed her name.

Why the hell is there toothpaste on my hair brush????!!!!

Did she get confused when I told her to go brush? Maybe she thought her teeth were way bigger than what they are? There is literally six feet between my hair brush and where her toothbrush. There is no way that they toothpaste fell onto my hair brush.

So this is where my pre-parent illusion comes into play. I thought I would have laughed it off and said, “That’s OK, Honey, things happen.”

That was no where close to my reaction.

While still shaking and yelling at her about all the things she was going to lose. I asked why she did it?

A quick side note: Never do that. It either goes one of two ways: They say I don’t know which does’t help, or they actually give you a reason. Which never makes it any better. For example, If she would have said, “I thought I would try brushing my teeth with your hair brush today.” or, “Because I thought you could use something to help tame your crazy hair.” It wouldn’t have made me any less pissed.

This particular morning she just simply said, “Uh-oh.”

I just pointed towards the garage and my look alone was enough to make her turn and go in the direction of the car.

I survey my hair. With a large streak of blue down the middle of my head, I now looked as if I had tried to slick my hair back and failed horribly.

So I do what anyone in my shoes would have, I pull on my hood from my sweat shirt and follow her to the garage.

Here’s to winning.

Yay.