Well, lest you think that everything is always peachy and rosy and happiness and light around here... We ARE a real family. We do get sick, and fail, and have generally yucky stuff happen to us. SOMEtimes, I share it here because I think somebody out there might be able to relate, and would be helped by knowing other people go through the same things, and feel the same feelings.
This is that post.
In spite of the fact that my son was at home sick for four days last week, it wasn't a bad week -- but I wouldn't say it was a productive week either. Rather than doing some of the things that needed doing (like laundry), I was busy doing things like figuring out meds for my son to take, buying and preparing food that I wished he'd eat, and making sure he didn't sleep so much during the day that he wouldn't be able to sleep at night. (Yeah, wish I knew that magic formula!)
On the surface, things seemed to be rolling along on an even keel -- but because I get emotionally "zapped" when our kids are sick, I wasn't all that surprised when the bottom fell out suddenly.
Since our son rarely gets to eat dinner at home with us (due to his work schedule), I decided to make homemade pizza, knowing that he would finally be at home to enjoy it. I put ingredients for the dough into the bread maker, prepared the sauce, grated the cheese, and had all of the toppings ready. I was feeling pretty organized really -- and the dough came out of the bread machine all poofy and pretty, so I was psyched! I pre-baked the crusts, and checked with each family member to see what toppings they'd enjoy. I started to put the personalized pizzas back in the oven. One made it, but the second? Not so much. Somehow it shifted in my hand, and before I knew what was happening most of the toppings were on the floor.
I was DONE. I jammed the pizza in the oven, scraped the toppings off the oven door, and slammed it. [Thank you God for not allowing my oven door to come off it's hinges!]
My daughter ran to see what the commotion was. I sent her away, and walked away myself to do some out-of-control crying.
Toppings remained all over the floor, and my sweet hubby [God, bless him!] got down on his hands and knees to scrape pizza toppings off the floor like a pro with his bench scraper. And all I could do was cry.
In the busy-ness of the week, I hadn't tied a knot at the end of my rope. So... when I got there (to the end of my rope), I naturally slid right off, so to speak.
It wasn't a pretty thing people. The "big ugly cry" never is. But then, my hubby hugged me, and we laughed about how that second pizza with only half the cheese would be perfect for our daughter who is somewhat lactose intolerant.
It wasn't about the pizza at all -- but I suspect you ladies knew that. Why do we moms think we can take on the weight of the world, and not suffer at all for it? The stress of the week had finally caught up with me, and the falling pizza was the last straw, that's all.
I am not unlimited.
Give yourself permission to have limits. Keep it real.
And, you know... tie a knot. Just in case.