It doesn’t take much to start a bad day. It can be a bit of rain derailing your morning plans. It can be your daughter suddenly refusing to eat her favourite meal. It can be seeing a speed trap and then looking at your speedometer and realizing the speed limit isn’t what you thought it was. It can be lamenting that there are only a small handful of day before you return to work. It can be all of those or none of those, or even reasons you don’t understand. And sometimes, you just need a bad day to give you an excuse to feel sorry for yourself.
But sometimes it just goes too far.
Monday was a bad day for all of the above reasons (though I was neither ticketed nor pulled over) and I just wasn’t able to shake it when we got to stroller fitness (rescheduled from the morning to the afternoon because of rain). I thought the work out was helping but suddenly found myself watching two kids slightly younger than C playing.
One was walking.
One had a relatively verbose vocabulary.
C has walked a grand total of 3 steps. She also has a grand total of 2 words. It didn’t matter how many times I’ve read, heard, or even said: “Each baby develops in their own unique way in their own special time,” the storm cloud over my head darkened and in that moment, I believed myself to be a complete and total failure as a mom. And with only 2 weeks left until I go back to work, I didn’t have enough time to correct my mistakes and so Little C would be doomed forever.
I know she’s not. I know she is exactly on track, and I know there is nothing I can do to speed up her development. But a bad day makes all the doubts in your head that much worse.