What is insane is that in a 48 hour period, you can have both. The extreme of both. It's exhausting. And slightly painful.
On Saturday, the day pretty much rocked. Tiff and I met up semi-early and got the kids packed up to head down to Columbia for Hayes' birthday. Both kids were excellent on the ride down and were perfectly content to watch Diego with no sound so that Tiff and I could gab our heads off with non baby talk for a while.
The party was so fun. I always enjoy spending time with Erin and her family and this time I lucked out and got to meet Rachel, a long time blog pal, and Katie, a newer blogger that I'm lucky to have gotten to know. It was a great afternoon watching the kiddos play and spending time with ladies that I truly enjoy being around.
The margarita didn't hurt either. Cinco de Mayo for the win.
The car ride home was blissful as both children were out before we even made it out of town. It was quiet. Other than BG hacking up her lungs from a nice cough she's rocking again, but you know. Quiet.
Tiff and I made dinner plans for that evening as we watched our crazy toddlers run around my house. It was a heart so full day (even though dinner didn't happen and I had to eat Cince de Mayo dinner with just le toddler).
As she settled down to bed that night, my heart was so full with how much fun we'd had that day. She'd been so good, she'd loved on the other kids, she was nice to the adults and was pleasant at dinner. Days like Saturday make me think that maybe I am doing okay with this parenting thing.
Not even 12 hours later, I woke up with a pounding in my head and an elephant on my chest. Nothing like starting the day with an allergy attack to get you going on the right foot. Mr. P gave me a Zyrtec which quickly set me up with that "cotton balls in my head" feeling that absolutely sucks.
BG and I didn't make it to church and we spent the next eight hours at home, without Mr. P, just trying to survive. She moved from activity to activity as I followed along in a half drugged, half just plain sick state. She was whiny and discontent to let her Mama rest and not entertain her. I was strugglin' ya'll. We were not seeing eye to eye with
Eventually we moved outside to the pool with some ice cream in hopes of just five minutes of quiet to rest my eyes.
It didn't happen.
By the time Mr. P came home, I was about as close to tears as one can get without actually sobbing. I was spent.
I climbed into bed Sunday night feeling defeated. Where was my high from Saturday? Where was the Mom who was rocking it and had such a happy kid on Saturday? How could we have such a great day followed by such a bad day??
Monday dawned bright and early and she and I managed to pick right up where we left off on Sunday; totally on the wrong foot with each other. I dropped her off and ran to work with a skip in my step at knowing that for at least the next seven hours, there was no toddler to yell and scream at me. It was going to be awesome.
Well that seven hours did the trick for us. Because when I picked her up, she was overjoyed to see me and threw herself in my arms. We made a quick visit to Daddy and then she and I ate burgers and fries in front of the tv for dinner.
There was still a good five meltdowns before bedtime, but as we sat, her in my lap for the first time in so long, and watched some tv before bed and let her wind down, I felt it again; that heart so full feeling from Saturday. I pushed a sweaty little curl off her face and sighed. Those moments aren't free. The highs are paid for with the lows. And the highs? I'll take the lows just to get those little joys.