Yesterday was one of those days that didn’t stop. I woke up, drove over 160 miles for work, did my physical therapy, came home, took care of the puppy dogs, wrapped presents, cleaned the kitchen, did a load of laundry–folding only my scrubs–and finally sat down to call Tiny Tot. I was beyond exhausted, I was beyond hungry, and I was fraying at the seams. At that point, had anyone asked me to get in the car and drive, homocide would have occurred.
But, if anyone could have brought a smile to my face in that moment, it would have been Tiny. He has a way of doing that; a way of infusing joy into the darkest hour.
Except, yesterday, he didn’t.
Throughout the evening I received a lot of pictures from Tiny’s day. Perusing the images, I was able to see that he had spent time with Brother, ran around the park with some friends, and had what looked like the best day, ever. So, I imagined I would have an excited-to-relay-the-events-of-the-day boy jabbering at me over FaceTime.
Not even close.
He wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even grunt at me. I got zilch to sum up my craptastic day of driving all over the city of Houston, fighting Christmas traffic, and getting irritated at truly horrible drivers. So, after my beautiful, green-eyed boy refused to speak to me, I threw in the proverbial towel. It was yet another Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Mommy’s Bad Day.
And I still have no deserted island.