I had a melt down this morning. I'm being kind to myself by sparing you the details but you wouldn't be far off if you imagined an over-tired, hungry two year old with an angry scrunched up face, glistening with a mixture of snot and tears.
I may have even stomped my foot at one point.
Lucky for me, the only ones who witnessed my drama queen theatrics were my dogs and Knox, who luckily for him, is mostly deaf and blind and remained oblivious to my freak out. My husband's iPhone may have melted from the heat of my text messages though.
Angry toddler text messaging. It's an art.
I try to limit my cry baby antics for the really big things in life, like when the car engine blows when you are on a rural high way, or the bank double dipped and took out two mortgage payments at once by mistake, leaving you with not enough change to buy a jug of milk but this morning, I had no control.
ANGRY TODDLER SMASH.
We ran out of water.
Which, when you have your water trucked in and you've disabled your tank alarm, is not an altogether uncommon occurrence. Big deal. I'll just order more and the dogs can drink out of the toilet until it gets here, right?
So I ordered water and made a mental note to keep Abbott in the house because the water guy is not entirely convinced Abbott won't rip his face off.
A half hour later I looked out the window and realized there was no way any truck could access my water cistern because we just had 50 yards of gravel dumped into the middle of our driveway, where it will remain until my husband is home in a few weeks to spread it.
That was the moment the water delivery dude chose to pull up to the yard.
Water, so close and yet so far.
That was the moment when I crumbled. For the most part, I can usually hold it together for the small emergencies of home ownership. But lately it seems it's been one emergency or problem after another, whether it's been home related, yard related or child related.
I was starting to feel like the little Dutch boy, sticking my finger in the dike, trying to plug up the leaks. Only I just ran out of fingers.
So I cried. Which is always helpful. And I stomped my feet. Which is even more productive. Next time I should try and remember to shake my fist at the sky too, to really make myself feel better.
I cursed the Zeppelin Hangar and rued the day my husband dreamt it into existence. If it weren't for the stupid garage we never would have needed to rip up the yard, move the cistern, destroy the driveway, re-grade the yard, pour a new sidewalk, get new lawn and re-gravel the drive.
My husband's stupid man cave is the gift that just refuses to quit giving.
Heck, I'm sure if we hadn't built that stupid garage we'd be millionaires, Knox would be able to walk, Skjel would still be alive, Nixon's head would still be on his body, Abbott wouldn't puke on my bed and world peace would happen tomorrow.
I wish I could tell you that I pulled my shit together, removed my head from my arse and figured out a solution to our gravel blockade. I didn't.
My son, bless that boy, who happened to arrive home at just the right moment, took one look at the water truck and one look at the gravel pile blocking the truck and shot into action. He found a new hose that his dad had bought and him and the water dude managed to get water into our far away water tank while I was inside the house feeling sorry for myself and sending pathetic text messages to my husband.
"WE HAVE NO WATER!"
"I'M GOING TO DEHYDRATE AND TURN TO DUST BUT NOT BEFORE I TURN INTO A SMELLY GREASE STAIN AND SEND A CLOUD OF NOXIOUS BODY ODOUR INTO THE OZONE."
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LISTENED TO ME AND HAD THE GRAVEL TRUCKED IN WHEN I ASKED YOU TO BECAUSE NOW I HAVE NO WATER BUT FIFTY YARDS OF RED ROAD CRUSH AND THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT. I'M INSANE. I HAVEN'T HAD ANY COFFEE YET. WHY? BECAUSE THERE IS NO WATER."
"WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING MY TEXT MESSAGES?
"YOU ARE PROBABLY SWIMMING IN AN OCEAN OF FRESH WATER, RIGHT NOW AREN'T YOU?"
"HOW SICK WILL I GET IF I BOIL POOL WATER TO MAKE COFFEE?"
"IF YOU LOVED ME YOU'D NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE WITH NO WATER."
The thing is, once I had wound myself up, there was no unwinding, even as I watched my son take charge of the situation I clearly should have, and act like the adult that I was incapable of being in the moment.
And that's what shames me.
Sometimes, when you are parenting alone, with no back up, life gets overwhelming. The little problems, life's hiccups? They chip away at you, leaving you more and more vulnerable until the dam bursts and the angry inner toddler stomps their feet.
Hours later, my husband called to check on my sanity and me.
I'm still sane, and now, showered and caffeinated, I'm grateful for the man I'm raising my son to be, because he really did swoop in and save us all from dehydrating and stinking.
But deep inside, I worry that I failed some invisible test because I melted down.
And I worry that one day, all the cracks I have will be visible to everyone and my inner angry inner toddler won't be so easily contained.