It was inevitable, especially to those who know me well. My pre-move meltdown – I was like my two year old sons having a tantrum – much more adultlike, I assure you – but the tears, stress, and that fact that I was just simply overwhelmed flowed out of me.
It all started with the boys last day at their Early Intervention playgroup. Preface, I am an emotional, oversensitive person to start with. So I woke up at 5:30, on the hottest spring day of the year, to make sugar cookies for their class. My dough was chilling overnight and I thought the morning would be cooler. Well, our house retains heat pretty well, and the dough was melting into the granite as I rolled it. My stress level went up a bit and I frantically summoned my husband from bed to help before the boys were up, as I certainly didn’t want their help. We managed to get the cookies done, not my best work and I am a baking perfectionist, but I let it slide – after all, my audience was ten 2 year olds.
So off to class we go. I didn’t realize our last day was going to be a bit of a production. We brought flowers for the teachers, but they made us cards, and sang us songs, and even presented me with a card that said “you rock” because they said I was an amazing mother. The tears start rolling and I try to pull myself together. Then I was sad because it’s my boys last day of class – they have come so far in Early Intervention – from tiny premature babies to little boys. This class was truly the start of their first days and last days and their teacher has been with them since day 1. I pulled it together again; of course, my face was bright red and teary, I don’t cry prettily.
The boys were starving after class, so I decided to get some takeout for lunch since we have a minimum of food before the move. I ordered their favorite, and the usually speedy takeout window took forever; then they ask me to sit and wait for my order and then they have the nerve to forget about me. I finally call inside and they bring out my order. I go home and discover they have forgotten ½ my order and have two starving children on my hands! After just getting the boys inside the house, I shudder at the thought of leaving again, but they said they would deliver it. They come to the house TWO times before getting it right. Sigh.
My Mom called at that instant, and told me she was talking to my brother about our house and how she hoped it had enough space for us – really? enough space? We paid an exorbitant sum for a house and you’re worried about space? It’s a much bigger abode that we already have, but that was the tipping point–I just let it out and my poor Mom was the victim. If I was listening carefully, I completely misconstrued what she was saying. But by that time I was past the point of listening and she had to listen to it all. I cried, I ranted, anything that bothered me in the past month came rolling out, just like a two year old, and you know what? I felt so much better when I was done. Some days you just need that.
Post a Comment