As I mentioned on Monday, it was a simple shoe (non)incident that pushed me over the edge last week.
A change in Tom's work/travel schedule meant I had to rework my Thursday morning. (On a "regular" day, our Tuesday/Thursday mornings resemble a choreographed dance that when performed correctly, all but guarantees the four of us get what we need out of - and where we're supposed to be - during the first few hours of the day.) I don't like reworking my Tuesday/Thursday mornings, so I began the day feeling overwhelmed and with a less-than-stellar attitude.
Thursday was also picture day at Hallie's preschool, so I set my alarm to wake me a half hour earlier than usual (this may have contributed to my poor outlook on the day) so I'd have plenty of time to get her completely ready - fall-themed outfit, coordinating shoes, styled hair, and matching hair bow - before I left for the gym at 7:10am. The plan was for Tom to walk Will to school at 7:40am while I cranked out a quick workout and drop Hallie off at at the gym childcare at 8am on his way out of town. Then I'd pick Hallie up from the gym childcare at 8:50am in order to drop her off at school by 9am.
All went according to plan until I walked into the gym childcare and found Hallie wearing her adorable gray, orange, yellow, and white dress with coordinating orange leggings - the outfit in which I'd dressed her one hour earlier - and...purple and teal shoes. Those shoes were the only thing I saw when she came around from behind the toy shelf and smiled at me, and I believe I exclaimed, "WHAT. ARE. YOU. WEARING?!" Hallie knew exactly why I was upset, because as soon as I questioned her outfit, she looked down at her shoes and said, with a little too much confidence for this stressed mama to handle, "well, I didn't want to wear those silver shoes anymore. I changed while Daddy put his stuff in the car."
And that was the truth...when I called Tom he assured me that she'd been wearing the silver shoes when he'd walked out the door. That clever girl waited until he wasn't looking, changed her shoes, and then quickly jumped into the car before he noticed what she'd done.
On a normal day the completely mismatched shoes would have bothered me - sue me, I like coordinated outfits, even on kids - but not enough to dramatically alter the course of my day. But on that day, when I'd taken such care to prepare her for picture day and to rework my entire schedule to get her to school on time, I was devastated.
I knew I had to go home and get the silver shoes, but I also knew I didn't have time to do so if I wanted to drop Hallie off at school on time. My only other option was to leave purple-shoed Hallie at school, drive home to pick up the shoes, and then drive back to school before her class's 10:30am picture time slot. I settled on this course of action, until I glanced at the calendar on my phone and discovered that, unless I rearranged my entire morning for a second time, I couldn't bring Hallie her shoes.
So that - not having 30 minutes to bring my daughter a pair of shoes - was my breaking point. What kind of schedule is that?!
So while the actual event that set me off was ridiculous (and brought out the crazy in me), it served a purpose. I knew the time had come to step back, just a little. And I knew the time had come to stop buying Hallie new pairs of shoes.