Mike has been dealing with cluster headaches for several weeks at a time, twice a year, for several years now. Basically it means he gets a migraine a day for a few hours until the wave passes. And we're in the midst of one of the waves now. I decided to take Layla to a carnival just up the highway while Evie took her nap thinking that Layla could skip a nap today because she was up so late last night and may be on the verge of not needing one. Mistake #1.
We had a blast at the carnival. She loved the rides and we went on some pretty fast ones, not just the sissy elephant rides. But I got a text from Mike earlier than I had planned to leave asking that we be back ASAP because he wasn't doing well. We had a few rides left, so we proceeded to finish of the tickets. However, I didn't prep Layla that we would be leaving soon and go over my expectations of her. Mistake #2.
On our way out, I stopped to grab her a corn dog. Unfortunately, the stand that I chose had caramel covered apples in the window that Layla immediately wanted. Mistake #3. The fatal one.
Holy shit, did I pay for it. My over tired, over stimulated, and heartbroken child had a meltdown right there. And when I say meltdown, think the kind where you look at the parent, in full judgement mode and wonder where the hell they learned how to parent. And knowing that I had to get home to Evie, and that we had over a mile to "walk" to the car, I snatched her up and half carried/half dragged her with one arm while I carried all the other shit in my other. My eyes daring anyone to say something to me, and my jaw clenched so hard that it still hurts tonight. There is nothing that I wanted more in that moment than to stop in the middle of the street and beat her. Not as a disciplinary means, but simply to beat her ass because I was pissed. I'm very glad that I didn't, because it wouldn't have done anything other than make me feel better for about 2 seconds, and then worse for the rest of my life. But I wanted it, boy did I want it.
She screamed the whole way home. She screamed when I threw her in her room, and she screamed herself to sleep. But of course, by this time, it was way past her normal nap time. So let's just say it's 10:30 and she's still up playing soccer in the living room.
I was a little recharged after she woke up and was able to take the girls and dog for a bike ride for just short of an hour after bath time, but I'm pretty damn sick of her. I'm at my limit. Hell, I was past my limit for a large chunk of the day. And I'm not ready to face tomorrow.
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