cotton shorts and a too short shirt

Some days I'm confident. And then somedays my insecurities reach new lows.  Think seventh grader. In gym class. Playing volleyball. (...That was so bad.)

Yesterday was a gym class day. Em had a doctors appointment in the morning. She was scheduled to get her four month shots. (She screamed for three hours last time - it left both of us a sobbing mess.) So before we left I tried to give her Tylenol - half of it choked her, the other half ended up on her white outfit.

Luckily she lived and we got her shots. Afterwards I collected my pirates from their Grandma's house, and I fed them each a lunch of a cheese quesadilla and half-of-a-donut. (....Not a vegetable in sight.) My two older pirates ran outside to play with a friend who, on the average, inspires them to be terribly grumpy. It was against my better judgement - but Squísh needed to go potty and Em needed attention... and my kitchen was a mess. In the grand scheme of things the kitchen matters just about zilch - but in the moment it sure contributed to that seventh-grade feeling. 

I took care of Squísh and Em. I cleaned the kitchen. I wrangled my pirates. I tried playing a game with just the four of us (Em was sleeping) but it failed miserably. (My pirates were grumpy.) Squísh fell and scrubbed her knee in the street. I lost my cool and sent us all inside to clean up the LEGO's. It wasn't my finest moment, but it didn't end there. I had at least three more times where I felt too much like my pubescent self, trying to serve in cotton shorts and a too short shirt. Our day ended with Robs telling me about the mean comments she received at school last week. 

Part of me didn't know what to do. I wanted to laugh - and tell her how mean comments really do just happen, and we need to be tough enough to handle them. But in that moment I had no idea what to say. I'd just tucked three pirates into bed. I was holding Em who had just barely finished screaming - so she could move on to eating my shoulder. 

"Robs," I said, "I think you're fabulous." And then I told her how sometimes when people say mean things I imagine them the size of LEGO people, and then I imagine flicking them. 

Which was probably NOT the right thing to say. And it will probably come back to haunt me. But it made her laugh. 

I smooched them all goodnight and went to feed my baby.