This blog post is not really about us fostering or adopting. I just just had my first very irrational melt down this pregnancy. I've cried plenty of times, but I think most of them I had a fairly good excuse. But now, as I sit laughing at myself, I just thought I'd share with you all.
First of all, let me tell you about my day. I'm exhausted. For those of you that don't know me well, I'm a bit of a clean freak. Not that my house is always clean, but it really gets to me when it isn't. I get cranky, and I feel claustrophobic when the house is a disaster. Even as a kid, my close friends called me a perfectionist and a neat freak. I used to clean my sister's rooms just because the mess bothered me. In my current state, I am just not able to keep up. I'm slow, so it takes me at least five times longer to accomplish anything, and it piles up and makes me crazy. So either I completely wear myself out cleaning, or I live in squalor. Today I over-did it. I washed, folded, and put away 3 loads of laundry. I cleaned the kitchen. I took out trash. I picked up toys and shoes, and cups, and everything else laying around the house. I can't even figure out how it gets so messy so fast. And all the while, little J is following me around dragging things right back out. During her naps, I went outside to try to finish up the weedeating. I am utterly and completely exhausted. My hips are killing me. And I haven't showered.
So car line time rolls around. I've been showing up at the school a little later lately because our school's car line is ridiculous, and when I sit in it for 30 minutes, poor baby in the back seat doesn't like that. So I show up right at the very end when it's about over. I pull up to the school with no intention of getting out, and there's no one outside. My heart just sinks. I sat there for a couple more minutes hoping that my kids would see me out the window and come running out. That doesn't happen. I mutter not nice things under my breath, and climb out of the van. Now, I'm wearing non-maternity XL sweatpants. My t-shirt that Alison tye-dyed for me 15 years ago might as well be a net shirt with all the holes in it. My hair is a mess, and I stink. I look down at myself. My shirt doesn't even cover half my belly, so I have to hike my sweatpants up past my belly button. Like, I have a wedgie for the history books. That makes my fat, swollen ankles stick out of the bottom like I'm expecting a flood. At least my pedicure still looks good. I take baby J out of the van and try to hold her in a way so that she's covering the most holes in my shirt.
I waddle inside the school, peek inside the office window, and there they are. Chase sees me immediately, and they try to run out to me, but Mrs. Trunchbull blocks them with her arm in the door way and tells me I have to come in and sign them out. Are you kidding me? I'm like 2 minutes later than usual! I gulp some air, and walk into the office, full of people. There's a lady signing her kids out in front of me, so I stand there and wait. She must be writing a novel or something, what in the world is taking her so long?! Chase reaches for J and says, "Let me hold the baby!" "No!" I whisper-snap to him. (She's covering the holes in in my shirt.) He reaches for her again, and shes leaning out of my arms trying to go to him. "Stop it! I"m holding her!" I snap again. Finally the lady in front of me finishes, and I sign them out. I rush out of the building with my head down feeling mortified. Chase asks me why I'm in such a hurry, and I just lost it. I told them I was just tired and cranky, and just saying that makes me burst into tears. I buckle everyone in, and drive home, trying to wipe away tears as fast as they fall. The kids ask me whats wrong, and I just reply with the usual, "Nothing."
We pull into the drive way, I wait for the kids to get out and get the baby out. As soon as the doors close, that was the moment I was waiting for. I start sobbing hysterically. I just needed to cry and let it out. I sob loudly. It feels good. A couple minutes later, the passenger door opens, my husband climbs in, and just sits there patiently. At this point, I'm ashamed. Now I know I'll have to explain why I'm crying. I continue to sob, snort and sniffle a few minutes more until I'm able to regain my composure. He asks me if I'm okay. I told him I was fine, just tired and embarrassed to tell him why I was crying. And of course, he responds with, "Don't be embarrassed! I understand you have hormones going on." So I tell him about how I had to walk into school looking like this, and how Chase kept trying to take the baby, and I just wanted to hold her to cover up my holey t-shirt, which by the way, was impossible. Then he says, "Well, at least you had a bra on." That made me laugh and cry at the same time. We laughed together for a few minutes, then head inside. I told him I was headed straight for the shower, and as I close the door, I hear Chase ask, "So what did you find out, Dad?" I'd love to hear what he said.
Don't worry, I'm in bed now with my feet propped up. My babysitters are home, and doing a fantastic job of entertaining, and I'm trying to rest. And please, I know there are those of you that will tell me to not over do it, and take it easy. I don't want to hear it. I don't do it on purpose, but seriously, I have three kids. Unless you want to hire me a maid and a cook, things have to get done around here!
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