I feel run through the wringer.

What a rotten day. I spent the day really looking forward to getting out for a run once Bill got home from work. Tuesday is my trail run night and I was scheduled to meet some other runners at the US National Whitewater Center to hurtle through the loop in the dark. It seems this plan is always doomed though because every time the Whitewater Center is on the calendar it absolutely buckets down and the trails close.

Plan B isn’t a terrible option though. That involves running the trails at Renaissance Park as they do not close in inclement weather. The track isn’t as satisfying as the Whitewater Center, but it is a lot closer and good fun regardless.

I spent the afternoon with grand plans of letting Sam rest for an hour after preschool (he is always all smiles when he gets into the car but by the time we get home has turned into a cranky monster) while I cleared up a bit and got some errands done. Then I was thinking we would do something fun together, maybe some painting and Christmas decorating.

Instead, I got more and more worked up with the boy as he refused to stay in his bedroom and have either a nap or quiet time.

It got to the point where I really just wanted to make a stand that he had to stay in his room for quiet time so that he didn’t just know he could walk all over me and ignore my directions all the time. Every time I led him back to his room there would be silence for all of five minutes before the door knob would turn, there would be a cautious pitter patter pitter patter down the hall, and Sam’s beaming face would appear spurting some excuse or other as to why he wasn’t in his room.

Every time I then had to be the big meanie and make that chubby angel face rant and scream. My darling three year old would hit and kick at me as I sternly marched him back to bed.

Exhausting and very wearing on both our emotions.

If only he would understand that every time he poked his head around that door he was simply delaying all the crafty fun I had planned after nap time and making his bedroom sojourn all the longer.

Even when I decided that I’d had enough of this game and we couldn’t continue like this; when I instantly regretted every time I wanted to yell at him (and often did) and felt like giving in; when I told him to stay in his room and intended to just leave him for five minutes and then go in and gently release him to the house he defied me. Worse, when he came sneaking out he deliberately antagonised Bea each time, stealing her toys, ripping her books, hitting her and making her cry. It was an awful battle and I was so frustrated that the entire afternoon slipped away from us like this.

So all that time I was also looking forward to getting away from my wayward child and running unfettered for a bit in some woods. Bill had to work late tonight but he came home to look after the kids while I went out before heading back to the office again. It was cold and miserably wet outside but I didn’t care. Hopeful, I drove over to the park and there I sat in the empty car park on my own while everyone else wussed out. I’d rather expected that, but it was still a glum moment.

Not foolish enough to brave the woody trails on my own I decided to nip to the store for some baking supplies (I am currently sat waiting for the oven to beep and declare my batch of profiteroles for Sam’s preschool pot luck lunch tomorrow to be done.) and then try to run a neighbourhood loop in the rain.

That didn’t really go to plan either. With rain pouring down traffic gridlocked and a ten minute journey took me over half an hour. I grabbed chocolate chips and whipping cream and went to check out. At which point I realised I had the wrong bag with me. The bag with my wallet in it was hanging in the dining room closet. Fat lot of good it was there.

So back to the house, pick up my wallet, back to the store, back to the house. I’d taken so long Bill was waiting for my return and was ready to return to the office for the evening stint. DAMMIT.

And then back to battling Sam to go to bed, this time proper night night, put your jammies on, go to sleep, dream of diggers doing tricks, get back into bed, close your eyes, BED TIME SAM! Phew, it’s now ten thirty and I think I may have just achieved a sleeping boy, finally.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that Sam got another write up at school today. He hurt a classmate when he hit him in the face with a wooden helicopter. Wonderful.

2 Responses to I feel run through the wringer.

  1. ashridge December 9, 2009 at 4:47 am #

    I hope tomorrow is a better day for you. Send me a profiterole please.

  2. ashridge December 9, 2009 at 4:47 am #

    I hope tomorrow is a better day for you. Send me a profiterole please.

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