There are a few disclaimers before this post.
A: I’m on my laptop and the “d” key is really sticky. Driving me crazy. If some of my d’s are left off, you might have to throw one in. This paragraph alone took me about five minutes to write because I had to go back and press hard for all the “d’s.”
B: There are no pictures in this post. I’m too tire to pull them off my camera, and I haven’t taken very many the past couple of days. So if the pictures make you happy, more happy will come next post.
C: I almost din’t write tonight because I knew I’d wake up tomorrow and feel fine, and it would be a much better day to write a post. It woul make sense and it would have pictures and I wouldn’t be tired and it woul have unicorns. But I owe it to myself to write on nights like tonight. It already feels goo. Or good. Oh, and the unicorns? They’re there. They’re just sleepy tonight. In the barn, having a rest. But they’re there. Always.
I think I shoul begin by saying I sent Lainey to school today with a hot dog in her lunch and my kids had McDonald’s for dinner at 7:30. Half of me has a problem with this because I don’t think hot dogs and McDonald’s are the healthiest things for kids (although that doesn’t stop us), and half of me has a problem with this because I care what people think and a torn-up hot dog in a Tupperware on the fourth day of school doesn’t exactly send the cool mom vibe I had envisioned (at least I cut an apple to go with it). Heidi picked Lainey up from school today and teased me later, “Dude. What was in her lunch box? If you’re going to send a hot dog, at least cut it with a sharp knife. It was, like, ripped.” This is true.
Because it was a day. Actually, it’s been a bit of a week, and I know what I’m about to say is so enjoying-the-small-things-painted-on-a-plaque, but it feels good. It feels good to be frazzled and falling apart a little bit because I feel like I’m learning a lot. I feel love from friends and family. I feel good to laugh and make fun of torn-up hot dogs. I feel good to surrender to the freedom of hot mess, and I almost want to take it to the moon. Like maybe drop off Lainey for school in the morning wearing my pajamas and dragging toilet paper from my shoe because at least it would be funny. I mean, if you’re having a frazzled week, you might as well go big or go home.
Oh look, the “d” is working now.
I asked Brett if I shouldn’t mention this on the blog because it’s his stuff and not mine and because–well, some things are private and not to be shared. But we have lots of private things (the word private makes me giggle) that we don’t share, and he says he doesn’t care about this one and that if writing about it feels good, then I should write about it.
Everything’s fine now. Just fine. But he had some scary chest pains today and we went to the ER and they kept him overnight to do that whole we-take-chest-pain-very-seriously thing (as they should). They already did a slew of tests, and everything looks great. I’m not worried anymore. In fact, by the time I left the hospital tonight, I was taking awkward hospital pictures and sending them to friends. And if the old man one curtain over in the ER yelled “I need to call Liberty Mutual” any louder, Liberty Mutual would have heard him and showed up.
But earlier today, I was not okay. I was scared and crying and made embarrassing emotional calls to people who don’t speak embarrassing emotional (it’s a very sloppy language that I need to perfect). I guess nothing makes me freak more than my family in jeopardy. My family. My love.
Because I know mature and pulled-together people stay calm and level-headed during moments like this, I realized today that I must not be mature or pulled-together. I’m going to work on that. What I do know is that you rise to the occassion, always. There’s an adrenaline rush that comes with those moments when life feels a little bit like it’s in danger of falling apart, and it makes you feel very responsible. To your family. To yourself. Fight or flight, baby, and I’m flying.
Between kindergarten emotions and it-could-have-been-a-heart-attack, I am learning more about myself and my family. What we are capable of. How we need each other. What we can do better. We seem to learn it when life gets sticky.
We may have had happy meals for dinner, but I felt so on top of my game later tonight. I put two girls to bed with clean jammies, made Lainey’s lunch, signed papers in her Wednesday folder, talked to the boys about today, had a great chat with their mom, made some calls, took my prenatal vitamins and ultimately decided to write a post.
Brett will most likely be home tomorrow, and his follow-up will go back in the private folder where it belongs. We’ll move forward and feel grateful and will be making crafts and packing better lunches soon. I will keep thinking about this for a while because I think that’s what these moments are for. I’ll tone it down beneath “embarrassing emotional” but dial it above “insignificant” because everything is significant. …it’s how we grow.
And I can’t wait to write more about Fred’s on Tuesday nights, kindergarten progression and a new friend I finally met that rocked my world.
But it’s late, and I am tired and it’s been a very, very long day.