I didn’t hurt myself or lose a family member. I didn’t reconnect with a long-lost friend or realize my life’s true purpose. I just felt sorry for myself while I sat at the kitchen table, eating my pitiful half-cooked Banquet chicken pot pie. I was on the brink of what they call “wallowing in self-pity,” which I understand can lead to bad hygiene and weight gain. I started thinking about the events of the day, how nothing went my way, and how things don’t go my way often enough. I fumed about life being unfair and wondered why some things happen to me and my loved ones, and not someone else and their loved ones instead. I know that sounds really mean, but I’ll make up for it in a minute.
First thing this morning, we took our two year old to the eye doctor for a post-surgery check-up. She had a cataract removed last month, by the way. Have you ever tried to put a patch (like a pirate patch, but made like a band-aid) on a toddler? If not, you’re really missing out. They love being restrained so you can apply something that prevents them from seeing clearly. Oh, wait, it’s actually the opposite. They hate it. And they really hate it when some doctor they don’t know is trying to do it while repeating the phrase, “Look at the kitty cat on my nose. Look” over and over. Long story short, I learned some new, useful restraining techniques and the doctor thinks my toddler needs anger management.
During the visit, we’re told that our daughter will have to wear an eye patch every other day, along with her tiny, adorable toddler glasses that make her look like a baby genius. Okay, I’m thinking, she will just look super unique. I can live with that. Plus, it’s helping her in the long run and that’s what I want. Bring it on, Doc!
Then, we learn that she was prescribed incorrect lens strength and needs new lenses before she can start wearing her glasses. Okay, I’m thinking, it will cost more, but she needs them. I can live with that. Then, I feel a little nauseous and visions of vacations I will never be able to take flash through my mind. But only for a second, because I am such a great mom.
Back to me, eating food that cost less than a candy bar (that can’t be good for you…). I realize that even though my little girl is the one really going through the rough patch, I’m the one complaining. I’m the one feeling sorry for myself and demonstrating my depression by eating the cheapest frozen food known to man-kind. And there she is, oblivious to my weirdness and playing some game that involves putting our cat into a bucket and refusing to let him out. She’s laughing and smiling, a living reminder that things are never as bad as they seem. She makes me re-evaluate my outlook on the situation without ever saying a word to me. She causes me to replace my negativity with optimistic words and support. She even walks up to the table when she notices me looking at her, takes my hand and says “It’s okay, Mom. Want me to put that in the garbage for you?” I take this as really sweet, intuitive gesture, but really, she just loves throwing things in the garbage can. I can live with that. Love Mom.
Debra Carpenter is a young housewife and mother transitioning from wild to mild. Like, really mild. Stay-at-home-on-Friday-nights-and-play-Candy-Land mild.
 Email her at interruptedmom@gmail.com or visit the website at www.motherinterrupted.com