Today has been magical.
First, while taking five whole seconds to put some pants on, my beautiful toddler manages to get into the shower and cut her finger open on my razor. She doesn’t cry, or even act like anything happened. I just turn around to find her surrounded by her own blood like some sort of murder scene.
After some crazy gymnastics to get her hand under the faucet and a clean towel to apply pressure (all while she’s fighting me to go back into the shower stall of horrors), she manages to bleed through the first Band-aid immediately so we get to go through the whole routine AGAIN.
As we’re finally headed out the door, sweet baby insists on wearing her water shoes. At this point, I have reached Mom Survival Mode Level 1. I don’t even care, I just want to get to Target.
Upon reaching Target, a mere 40 minutes from my home, my lovely daughter has a meltdown just inside the door because I won’t hand over my car keys. You see, from experience, I know that the car alarms you hear in the parking lot are not caused by thieves. Rather, they happen by way of toddler.
I reach Mom Survival Mode Level 2 by the time we hit the little girls’ section. I offer my wonderful kid a $5 necklace in an attempt to distract her long enough so that I can check out the sale racks.
It works… for 3.5 minutes.
I managed to purchase whatever was in my cart. Was it on my list? Who the hell knows. What even happened to my list?
I pull into the Hobby Lobby parking lot and take a minute to re-group. I need one item. Just one measly item. I know where it is. I can do this. I get out, unbuckle my bundle of joy, and discover she has peed completely through her diaper AND pants… and it’s now on my arm.
Not to be discouraged, I strip her down in the back seat of my car and continue on with the mission. Near the frame section I became that mom. The one who lets her kid have holy meltdown while I ignore her completely and take my time browsing the selection. I have reached Mom Survival Mode Level 3. Code Red.
I make my purchase, strap my darling back into the car and turn on the trusty movie-playing iPad. Normally this buys me a full hour in the car. Today, Tangled bought me six minutes. Even my delirious rendition of, “I have a dream!” didn’t make her stop screaming.
My precious dear is now napping, without eating lunch (because her tantrum couldn’t be bothered by string cheese and blueberries). And it’s only noon. Yet, still my day has been magical.
How is that even possible, you ask?
Somehow I made it out of Target with a swimsuit cover up, a tank, a romper and palazzo pants (who am I?!). I didn’t try any of it on. Actually, I’m pretty positive I didn’t even look at the sizes. But, magically, it all fits like a dream.
Thank you, Target Gods. I owe ya one.
Anyone else having a magical day in Toddler World?