The Queen of the Meltdown

Mondays are not my friend on pretty regular basis. I always have meetings or some sort of super fun commitment after school. Then, I end up picking Em up late and either dinner or exercise (or both) is rushed and not fun.And, to make things even better, Justin is in class til late.

But this one was extra special.

1. We have two days of testing (read minimum days) this week and the kids were feeling surly, and guess who they thought would make a nice target for their frustration? Well, it didn't work out so well for them, but it wasn't the pleasant, quiet Monday I had hoped for.
2. I had an hour long tutoring session after work. I avoided the pizza, but this was the fifth one I've done for the kids, and I was feeling a bit frayed around the edges.
3. Finally, once I got Em home, she had the mother of all meltdowns. Seriously, it brought tears to my eyes.

Our evening started sweetly enough. Em skipped her nap today, and so she nodded off in the car on the way home. I didn't fret, and it was nice to be able to listen to the news without: "Play a girl song, Mom!"

I propped her up on the couch and proceeded to work out. After a couple minutes, she woke up, a bit groggy, but still pleasant. She complained that she was hungry, so I made her what she requested (this is important evidence for later)--a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Em climbs up to the table, and I continue exercising. Then, our perfect little evening is blown to smithereens.

"Mommy, Mommy, my hands, my hands!" Em screams this with such fear that I rush over thinking something might actually be wrong. But I see nothing. Her hands are covered in peanut butter, but there doesn't appear to be anything else wrong. So I give her a napkin, help her out, and try to go back to my Tae-Bo.

"Mommy, help me, help me!" Now, she is full-on crying and losing it. I stop the DVD and tend to her. Tears streaming down her face, sobs wracking her body, she screams to me "Mommy, it's poopy! Poopy!" I start to get a little panicky that maybe she did have an accident. But no, it's just the peanut butter.

However, now Em is not to be calmed down. No matter how much I try to convince her that she doesn't have "poopy" on her hands, she is inconsolable. Even after I wash her hands. Even after I give her an early bath. Still sobbing.

It isn't until we read all 3 Fancy Nancy books and I plop her in front of Kung-Fu Panda that she is happy again. I stagger off to the kitchen to make some sort of dinner, amazed at how quickly my quiet evening became a thing of the past (along with my sanity.)

Things are good now. Justin came home, and I retreated to the bedroom. Now, the baby is in bed, the dishwasher is humming along, and the laundry is a'spinning. All is well.

But I'm still hiding the peanut butter for a couple days...