"And Then I Had A Cocktail" or "How I Won the Mother of the Year Award."

As I pulled on my yoga pants, I felt positive. It was 7am and I was getting ready for a yoga class at the Y - something I had wanted to start doing for months. I was dressed (including socks and sneakers) and so was Claire (including pants - the real win). I had water. Claire had extra diapers in case she had an accident. We had already discussed the exciting playground at the Y where she was sure to meet new friends.

We were ready.

My plan was foiled the moment we walked in the door. We got a little lost looking for the daycare, and when I picked up Claire to try to walk more quickly, I realized that she was sopping wet. She hadn't mentioned needed to use the bathroom and in my rush to get to class on time, I hadn't asked. I finally founf the daycare and asked for the changing table. As I was changing her diaper, Claire's sixth sense flaired up. She knew I was leaving. I spent a few minutes walking her around the room, pointing out the slide and blocks and princess books. I told her to give me a hug and kiss and that I would be back from my class soon.

Then the wailing started.

" I just wnat you Mama," she cried in a terribly pathetic voice. I spent a few more moments trying to calm her down before looking at the daycare workers helplessly. Then one of them said something to me that angered me more than I thought it would: "If you had just dropped her off, she would have been fine. But now she'd going to cry the whole time you're gone."

I shot her a look that I hoped conveyed my anger at her accusation (but probably just looked ridiculous - I've yet to take the "Crazy Eyes" class at the LLU) and walked out.

I was not happy. I had been looking forward to yoga - the quiet, the peace. I was doing it just for me, or trying to, and my plans were thwarted. I walked a little faster to the car than I should have, annoyed that Claire had immediately stopped crying and was now negotiating a chocolate milkshake after lunch and could we go play at Aunt Addie's and how about she gets to turn on the air conditioner for me?!

Didn't she know she had just ruined my plans? Why couldn't she just go play by herself like other kids?

"I'm not happy, Claire. You ruined my day." I was fuming. How could she be so happy? She had thrown a huge fit to get what she wanted. She was acting like a baby.

Then I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her big blue eyes looking at me. That's when I realized. She WAS still a baby. She is only three. She was scared to be in a place she didn't remember with people she had never met. She didn't know how to tell me this, so she cried.

And I yelled at her. Guilt washed over me. But I pushed it down, knowing it wouldn't do any good. I resolved to salvage the morning.

. . .

As I type this, Claire is standing in our atrium, naked, in the rain. She's shivering, but she's laughing. Since that morning, I've yelled again. I've been frustrated and annoyed and angry. But I've also hugged and kissed and said "I love you." I have bad moments, and I have good moments, but they're just that - moments. They don't define my day. I let the bad ones fall away and hold on to the good ones.

How do you handle "bad moments?"