A Day in My Life

I posed a question to myself yesterday: is it possible to feel so completely exhilarated and fulfilled, while at the same time feel so completely frustrated and whapped over the head, all within the course of a single day?

My answer: yes.

Yesterday was a gorgeous spring day, the first nice Saturday forecasted in many weeks. With sun streaming into my windows, I declared it to be an outdoor day. Don had plans to spend half of the day fixing broken shingles on the top half of the house, while I eagerly anticipated my day in the garden. Jacie had already made a trip to a garden center and graciously took on my own list of leafy wants, along with her own ideas for her yard and the church. She drove her minivan-turned-private greenhouse on wheels over to my house and delivered the goods, which sat in my back yard for those few days until yesterday, my Planting Day.

I guess I made my first fatal error when I drew up a mental agenda for my day. I should know better. But to humor myself, my timetable went as follows: eat breakfast, skip showering (since my day out in the sun and dirt would warrant a good refreshing cleansing later on anyway, and plants could care less how skanky I look), wash the dishes, put the pork and sauce in the slow-cooker for our dinner of pulled pork bbq later on, and then -- hooray! -- head out to my little leafy friends. After lunch, I planned on heading over to church for about an hour to help Jacie with the plantings there, and then come home to enjoy a leisurely afternoon in my newly planted garden.

Yes, my first mistake. I guess I momentarily forgot I had children (and a husband home during the day, for that matter). If you make a list, just figure on everything else happening in between.

Halfway through my dish washing, I heard Don yell for my assistance. He was on a ladder toward the front of the house, next to the porch. I was a bit frazzled and admittedly annoyed that he pulled me away from my chore; I was already in a bit of a sour mood because Aidan had been spending the last 20 minutes whining that Daddy wouldn't play "Dragon's Lair" with him on the computer. Grace was already on the front porch, watching her Daddy at work. He asked me to open the side window and hold his drill for a minute.

I stood there, holding his drill as the minutes passed, one by one.
OK -- now what? Can I give this back to you?
Yeah, sure, but here -- hold this board a minute ...

15 minutes later, I began to see that what he wanted was a trusty assistant standing by to hold his tools. Listen, I have work to do! I can't stand here all morning! I said.

Come on, just a few minutes more, I could really use your help ...

As I thought of a way to get out of this situation, I was suddenly rescued -- but not by a welcomed intrusion. I heard a loud crashing of glass coming from the kitchen.

Apparently Aidan, who was still in a big pout, decided to help himself to a snack, but in doing so, he pulled out the box of fruit snacks which in turn hit the large thick glass cannister half-full of goldfish crackers, which then crashed to the counter below it, smashing not only itself but my stemware and other glassware waiting there to be washed ... which wouldn't have been there in the first place if I wasn't called away to be Bob the Builder's assistant so I could have focused on my dish washing ...

Yeah, you get the idea.
For the next hour -- yes, hour -- I swept and mopped and vacuumed, trying to get up all the tiny shards of glass. When I thought I was through, I turned around only to see minuscule glints here and there, glass bits twinkling at me and letting me know I needed another go-round. Yes, my mental to-do list had completely disappeared by this point.

When my glass clean-up finally finished, I washed what was left of my dishes, and then took care of the pork. I looked at the clock -- almost 11:00 a.m. and only now was I heading out to the garden. I sighed heavily, trying to squelch my feelings of irritation.

As soon as I walked outside, I was welcomed by that wonderful spring smell, a light comfortable breeze, and refreshing sunshine. I felt great. I planted my herbs, my tomatoes and peppers ... I had the time of my life. This was my first real Garden Day of the season and it felt soooooo gooooood! I experienced a wonderful sense of fulfillment.

Fast forward a bit, through a quick lunch outside, gardening at church, and then back home by 3:00 p.m. Clearly I was not going to relax that afternoon as planned, as my own gardening wasn't finished. Don came out of the house with the kids, who just finished their naps, and we pow-wow'd a bit to see where things were. Don expressed a desire to go to some Goodwill center to look for some records and said he would take the kids with him. Uh ... doubt that, my dear. Leave Grace home; you take Aidan with you.

My girl and I had a fun afternoon, as I continued with my geraniums and vinca, and she had a hoot in the sandbox. Well, turns out she had more than a hoot ...

At one point I heard, "Mommy, look at me!" and when I turned around I realized I wasn't prepared for what met my eyes. There she stood, completely naked, grinning widely. During that brief second or two where it started to sink into my brain, she then suddenly -- and surprisingly -- bent over and declared, "Mommy, I'm pooping!"

AAAARRRGGGHGHHHH!!!! I dropped my trowel and sprinted across the yard, picked her up under the arms, ran into the house, and plopped her on the toilet, not caring that she's not potty trained yet (although wondering if this bizarre moment would be the start). She sat there for a moment, looked at me, and said, "OK, I'm done now." UGH! Nothing there. Funny joke.

I picked her up again under the arms, went into my bedroom and laid her down on the changing pad on my bed. It was then -- and only then, due to shock -- that I realized the predicament I was in. My hands were black with dirt, and she was covered in wet sand. Sand was all over my bed, and as I looked over my shoulder, there was a trail of sand from our trek through the house. My nice clean house, that I just spent so much time cleaning, trying to get up shards of glass, was now all covered in gritty sand ... I was ready to induce myself into a coma.

Back outside now, fully clothed and ready for yet another fresh start. I wrapped up my gardening, relishing those last moments, proud of the transformation. Grace played contentedly, cheerful geraniums lifted my spirits, my happy boys came from their afternoon excursion. I was feeling good once again.

But then came the ringer of all parenting episodes, the one that you hear of happening yet never see it happen yourself. While Don and the kids played in the yard, I struck up a conversation with our next door neighbor -- a pony-tailed, Harley-riding mechanic who doubles as a Civil War re-enactor. After a while Don came over to get in on the conversation of upcoming re-enactments in the area, and then of course came the kids like little ducklings. We stood in a row on the low cement wall separating our yards, hanging on the severely rusty and broken fence. Then after a few moments we heard an odd sounding coming from Grace. We looked down ...

Her head was stuck through the fence.

We all froze. Is this really happening? How did she get her little head through the rusty opening? How on earth will we get her out? We tried pulling the twisted metal pieces apart but after decades upon decades of weathering, they held fast. I'm still not sure how we did it, but Don's Herculean pulling allowed her head to slide out. Phew.

What a day.
So is it possible to feel both completely fulfilled, yet utterly exasperated, all in one day?

Apparently ... yes indeed.