What I last ate A very boring Chicken Sandwich
What I last drank This mornings coffee (how horrible...)
Song in my head Little Moments
I have no cape. No big red S on the front of my shirt. I have no superpowers.
Somehow this never sinks in. I was hit with it this morning in the driveway. Fell down on me like an anvil in a Warner Bros. cartoon.
I had spent the weekend taking my daughter to storytime, dropping her off with Gramma to get my hair cut and ruching back so my husband and I can take her and my nephew to a football game, leaving at half time to get her to bed, getting up the next day to make it to Home Depot at the crack of dawn, cutting tile with my dad to finish my bathroom counter, laying the tile before my sister-in-law came over with my niece and nephew to do the usual Sunday family bonding, and making spaghetti sauce.
Why do I think I can do this in between working 40 hours a week? I can't. I just can't. I lost it. Apparently I had promise my mom icecream (nice payment I think) for watching my daughter while I got my hair cut. I talked to my dad last night and he informed me I don't keep promises. I guess I was supposed to get the ice cream payment right away. I missed the memo.
So last night I get upset about it and shove kid in the car to rush to Carvel at 6:45 to get her Gramma ice cream. Of course this is my only playtime with her so I feel like crap about that. And I'm generally pissed off at the whole freakin world.
So, here comes the anvil, this morning I am running late for work again. I have about 45 minutes a day with my husband during a four day stretch so I spend at least 30 minutes before even thinking of getting out of bed laying in bed and hold onto him for dear life. I would like to lobby for "missing one's husband" as a legitimate excuse for being late for work. I need to load up the whole SUV with a gazillion things I need to bring to my mom's to take care of the baby (more guilt piles on), plus remember the ice cream and the $10 we owe her. I forgot half of it and have to shout to my husband to bring the rest of the stuff out while I stare at my fuel light go on.
Anvil.
I just started crying. Couldn't stop. Makeup everywhere. Ba. Just bad. Freaked husband out. Cried all the way to mom's. Finally stopped about 5 minutes before getting to work.
I'm over it now. My darling gem of a husband spent the whole morning running around the house making it look as nice as possible and even going to Kohl's to pick out two new pairs of jammies. With feet. Could he be any cuter? But, I'm sure I'll do it again in a few months. I don't know why I feel compelled to do everything. The only thing it leads to is crying over country raqdio at stoplights. That's not good for anyone...
And the sad thing is that it's the weirdest thing to get upset about. Really, y'all should just kick me in the shins. I am very fortunate to have all that I do and I feel liek a moron for getting upset over not being able to control it.
I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a daughter. I am a sister-in-law. I am an aunt. I am a homeowner. I am a professional. I am a friend. And I do this all at once. I'm not the best at all of these all the time. But I try. I try pretty hard. This is what I have to give. It is what it is, my friends....