Yesterday I hit my tour nadir. This happens for me pretty much towards the middle of every tour. Things are good. Hell, damn near idyllic. And then I don't get enough sleep. Or I don't get any alone time whatsoever for days at a time. Or I don't get any exercise for a while. Usually it's a combination of all three. But somewhere near the middle of every tour my attitude takes a dive.
And yesterday was the day.
I woke up in a foul mood and stayed that way until dinner time. And when I say foul, I mean foul like every time I saw my husband my only desire was to call him an asswipe. He'd say something totally routine like, "I think it's time to pack up if we want to get on the road by 10" and I'd be like, "You would want to pack things up, ASSWIPE!" Well actually, I never called him an asswipe to his face, because even in my darkest hour I think of the children and no child wants to hear her father being called an asswipe. But I said it in my head all day and I implied it with my severely caustic tone every time I answered one of his idiotic questions like, "Should we stop here for lunch?" or, "Do you want to take a shower first or should I?"
Being out here is hard enough without having a raving megabitch traveling with you. I knew that and I cared not. Because I was in the midst of a tour nadir. I dragged myself through the day, insulting Dave, tweaking all of Lindsay's actions ("You probably want to fill that sippy cup only halfway with milk. GOT IT?") and painting on a smile for my kids. I'll admit though I didn't handle the 4pm baby/kid meltdown very well.
Sometimes it's better to step away from the children
Nothing was right with the world and everyone around me deserved to know that. Luckily it subsided by dinnertime and was completely gone by gig time. In fact, I had great gig (If you're in the Aberdeen, NC area check out The Roosters Wife Concert Series. It's seriously fun. And I think the low is in the rearview mirror.