Pretty good for a bad day

It’s the end of the day on what is my son’s 7th birthday. And oh, what a day it was.

I feel SO much pressure to make these days perfect. The days that are special. That they’ll remember, and think back on. I feel like it’s all on me, and if I fuck it up, I don’t know. They’ll hate me. Or never think I’m good enough. Or tried hard enough for them. It’s hard. And I think that’s part of why birthdays in general are so hard for me. Because of the expectations I have for myself.

Today can only be described as….chaos.

As I said good night to the last kid this evening, the song lyric (and title) pretty good for a bad day popped into my head. And it resonated. That’s exactly what today was.

Last night was bad. I got home from therapy, and my husband had a migraine. A bad one. We had zero interaction, he was laying in bed, and I set up in the bathroom. Fortunately, I had something to do to keep me busy…wrap presents and get the decorations ready. I did that…but let me tell you…it was a bad night. I’ll skip the details of my dark and gloomy thoughts, but let’s just say that it ended with me sending my therapist a message and basically telling her she should just give up on.

Her message this morning was well timed, because it helped me soften up a little bit and not be as angry with my husband for how the night before went.

It’s just a really hopeless and vulnerable feeling that I can’t explain, when the nights are like that. But, it’s scary.

I finally attempted to go to sleep at 1am, only to be woken up by my 5 year old at 3am, who was knocking on my door…………to tell me that he’s awake.

Okay. Cool. Thanks.

I went back to sleep, but he of course woke up his brother, and so their day started at 3am.

It was a good morning, once we officially started the day, that is. Christian was in a good mood, he was happy, and he was excited that it was finally his birthday. He’d been counting down for 2 weeks.

He asked to open up one gift, and we let him. He got dressed for school in suspenders and a bow tie, because not only was it his birthday, but also the 100th day of school. And instead of uniforms, they allowed them to dress as an “old person” if they wanted to.

Christian initially said he did NOT want to dress up, because he would feel embarrassed. I understood completely, as my brain works the same way. Anxiety. It’s different. It’s weird. And unknown.

I bought him an outfit anyway, and left it outside his door last night so that if he CHOSE to, he’d have that option.

This morning I reiterated that he did NOT have to wear it (it was just suspenders and a bow tie), but if he wanted to, I’d help him get dressed. Ultimately, he did choose to wear it, and I’m really glad he did.

Cause he looked pretty fly.

(Side note, ever since I shattered my phone, all my pictures are blurry. It’s actually the worst thing ever.)

Since he’s my oldest, it was my first experience with a school birthday. And holy moly was it a lot. While not required, a lot of parents provide pizza for the class on their child’s birthday. Me, not wanting to disappoint my son, was going to do the same. So I had to get 6 pizzas delivered there by 11:30, lunchtime.

I’ll leave the details out, but trust me when I say that what should’ve been a simple door dash order turned into a multi hour ordeal and me panicking to make sure that my kid gets lunch that day. I was NOT about to be responsible for making an entire class of 6 and 7 year olds miss their lunch and be hungry.

I resolved all the issues, it got there on time, and all was well.

I now had an hour and a half left to decorate *properly*. And clean up. I wanted to do the big decorations while he was at school so he could come home and see it all and be excited.

I used my time efficiently, and got everything done that I wanted to.

In addition to the pizzas, parents are supposed to go up to the school at 2pm for a “birthday celebration”. Oh, and you have to bring “treats” for the class.

Another successful door dash later and I am now the proud owner of birthday cake Oreos and mini cupcakes with sprinkles.

So we get to school at 2, my husband meets me there, and I’m nervous as shit. I didn’t know what to expect or what it would be like……but it was actually really cool. I love his teacher, and I don’t know if it’s a class thing or a school wide thing, but the birthday ceremony was definitely something that I’m glad to have been a part of.

Over the weekend, I had the project of filling out his “birthday story”, which was just writing out the highlights from each year of his life, and printing out a picture from each year as well.

If you know me, you’d know that that was soooo much easier said than done. It took….a long time. And a lot of stress. But I’m pleased with what I came up with. I did get Christian’s input and approval for everything, so he was a part of it in that way. And he helped me pick out some of the pictures, too.

His guide (teacher, but it’s a Montessori school, so they call them guides) had all of his pictures taped to the board in a circle. She read each year of his life, took the picture down to show the class (literally everyone kept saying he was adorable, and yes, he sure was and is), and then they did something really cool.

The other guide (teacher) lit a candle in like this wooden stump type of thing, and they also had all of the months laid out on the ground. So, he was standing on the “January” month. After the candle is lit, he walks around the circle while the rest of the class sang a song about how the earth goes around the sun.

They did that 7 times. For all the years of his life. After the last one, he blew out all the candles.

I have no idea if I explained that well enough, but it was really unexpected. And something I really appreciated as a parent. Mind you, I was freaking out about this and dreading going. Because I didn’t know what to expect.

After the ceremony, they ate their treats, and we got to take him home. Phoenix was proud to be a part of his school celebration, and I was just so relieved he behaved himself (was quiet). He will be with the same teacher next year, so I’m glad whenever he gets to go there.

We get home, and part 2 of the actual fiasco that this day has been takes place. We ordered his cake a few days ago, and we’re supposed to pick it up today. He picked it himself. A unicorn cake with pink and blue icing, and he was very proud of it. It was actually the same exact cake he picked last year.

My husband goes to the store to get it while I take the boys home. He calls me, the cake isn’t there. They don’t have it. They never made it. He doesn’t know what to do. So he grabs what they did have, and came home.

I was heartbroken, but I explained to my son that his cake will look a little bit different, but that’s okay, and he’ll still have a cake. We were more upset than he was. He really took it in stride, and I was actually really proud of him.

The rest of the day was sugar and presents and playing and noise.

This day was stressful. And long. And exhausting. It had wayyy too much drama for my liking, and I spent HOURS trying to resolve other peoples mistakes.

But that wasn’t his experience. He had a great day. He doesn’t know all that went into it on my end, and that’s how it should be.

I have to say, it was pretty good for a bad day.

But I’m so fucking glad it’s over. I am so far and beyond what emotional exhaustion is that I don’t even have the words for it.

For now, I’m going to take the advice that my therapist gave me last night before I left, and I’m going to put everything in a box. If it doesn’t need my immediate attention, it’s getting packed away to be dealt with later.

And I’m going to spend the rest of the night being kind to myself, and not feeling any pressure to please anyone, or be perfect.