I'm That Mom!

Today was a particularly challenging day. Class was difficult. The kids were rather more frisky than usual. My husband was stressed over winterizing our home in anticipation of the coming cold weather. Our hot water heater is only partially heating and unreliable. That's a story for a different day.
Needless to say, I had a 12 quart stock pot full of boiling water that I was transferring to the bathtub late this afternoon, in an effort to clean up before I had to dash off for my son's soccer game. I had planned to take a quick bath while the chicken finished thawing and the oven preheated. I figured I could start dinner when I got out and it would be warm and ready to eat when we returned from soccer at 7:30.
Back to the stock pot. I was armed with pot holders and carefully carrying the hot water into the bathroom, like I'd done so many times. I don't remember tripping or catching my foot. I'm not really sure what went wrong. All I know is that as I was about to tip the pot away from me and into the bath, some scalding water sloshed in my direction and onto my upper thigh. The second I felt the searing pain I threw the pot and the pot holders into the tub. I stripped off my pants, which were now soaked with the hot water. While the best course would have been to immediately run cold water over my burning thigh, I had dumped the hot water into the bathtub, the only place where I could have effectively rinsed my leg. I quickly grabbed a towel and soaked it in the kitchen sink. Yes, at this point I was only in my undies from the waist down, but I figured the kids would forgive me if I offended their delicate sensibilities. I took an ice pack from the freezer and laid it on top of the wet towel in an attempt to keep it cool. I sat at the kitchen table, rather under dressed, trying to soothe my leg and my pride, and it all hit. I just started crying. The burn hurt but not enough to warrant the on slot of saline streaming down my face. It had just been that kind of day.
I sat there, hoping my leg would not blister, counting down the minutes that I'd dedicated to washing my hair, maybe shaving my legs and getting a head start on dinner. It was amazing how much time flew. Finally, with no more time to waste, I realized that sitting in a gloriously hot bath was now out of the question. I had neither the time nor the desire to submerge my burned limb in a hot bath. What's worse? I ran out of time to even wash my hair. I thought maybe I could do a dry shampoo and put it up. By the time I put some antibiotic ointment on my now developing blisters and covered them with gauze, I barely slid into my jeans (ouch!) and out the door to go to the game. My eldest daughter and youngest son stayed home with daddy. He had to prepare for work and (bless his heart) help my daughter take over dinner preparations. I took our soccer star and my youngest little elf girl to the game. Of course, she fell asleep on the way. It had also been a no nap day.
We pulled in just in time. Cayde jumped out so he could warm up and get on the field. At this point I realized just how gross my hair looked. I forgot to powder it or even brush it. I haphazardly pinned it up in a messy bun, but it still looked gross. I reluctantly pulled Ella out of the car, rousing her from her overdue nap. In the daylight I realized that she was also gross. She had been playing outside with the other kids almost up to time to leave. We put her in a pull up and clean clothes and there was some sort of attempt at cleaning her up that involved baby wipes. I had an earlier, and apparently lofty, notion that she could jump in the bath after I had finished. Good intentions and such... She still had marker from an art project all over her hands and dirt under her nails. Her hair was unbrushed and, while it wasn't bad from the front, the back was a matted mess. I put it up in a sort of cute messy bun. She waited until we were around the other soccer moms and then pulled it out, revealing her sad state of affairs on the back of her head. Oh great! I'm that mom!
I was emotional and embarrassed. I would have liked nothing more than to sit in the car and hide. The other soccer moms looked fresh and clean. Their kids looked happy and... clean.
I swallowed the knot in my throat and hoped no one would wonder why my daughter and I looked scummy. I just had to live in grace and believe that everyone had experienced that kind of day and I focused on my son. He needed me and I was proud to watch him!
He's awesome. He's a naturally talented soccer player. He is still honing some skills, but he's good. I clapped and yelled, throwing myself into full sideline coaching mode. 
At the end of the day, when I hugged him and said good night, he squeezed me a little tighter than usual. I ruffled his hair, which he loves, and he thanked me for being there tonight. Where else would I be? At least for tonight, I'm that mom! Totally worth it.