May 15, 2006

Whenever someone in our family gets worked up in a frenzy of self pity and starts complaining about how unfair life is, we usually respond with, “Waaah.” As in, “thou shalt not whine,” also known as the 11th commandment (at least here in our house.)


Feel free to say, “Waaah” at the monitor as you read this post (or just skip reading it altogether). I am whining. I am wallowing in self-pity, even, but if I don’t vent I won’t sleep, and then I will be even whinier tomorrow.

This was the worst Mother’s Day I have ever had. It all started with my not sleeping well last night (worry over Trevor combined with possible grinding of teeth, which resulted in tooth pain from Wednesday’s root canal). I was up at 3 am crying my eyes out and praying to God that he would help my son and me get through this difficult phase of his life, and up at least two other times during the night as well, although that was by far the worst.

At 7 AM, 30 minutes before I was supposed to get up, I heard Sophia running out of her room toward the den. Dan was nice enough to get up with her but since she had the recital today, I wanted her to get as much sleep as possible. I came out to the den and steered her back toward her bedroom, tucked her in, and told her to sleep some more. She did go back to sleep; however, I did not. I turned on my electric rollers and got the newspaper, then started clipping coupons.

I was still clipping and filing my coupons when the power went out. I rushed back to the bedroom and got the rollers in my hair before they had a chance to cool off. However, as it turned out, Dan was able to get his generator up and running fairly quickly so we didn’t have to go without power for very long.

Back to the coupons. They are clipped and filed but for some strange annoying reason there are no grocery sales fliers in the paper this week. They will have to be looked up online later.

We head to church early for a 9:30 membership class (fourth and final). Immediately after the class is the service. When the pastor invites people to come to the altar to pray, I go up and pray for Trevor; my dear friend the pastor’s wife also prays for us. I am exerting all the self-control I can muster to not just break down and start sobbing completely.

After I get back to my seat, they take up the offering. I can’t write a check for our weekly tithe because my checking account balance is a pathetic $5.67. It is also around this time that Trevor appears at my side because he has been kicked out of his class for misbehaving. And he has an attitude about it, like he is the wronged party.

After the service, we leave church and stop at KFC for some chicken on the way home. We have to get something to eat quickly because we need be ready to leave for Sophia’s dance recital at 2:15 and it’s already 12:30. We order an 8 piece bucket and head home. Get home and open the bucket, there are only 6 pieces. That means only 1 breast, which is the only piece that Trevor and I like. He starts whining, so I give him mine, try to call KFC but get a busy signal, then leave to drive over there. (Note:SUVs can drive just as well as a sportscar when you want them too. Mileage be damned.)


The manager at KFC must have sensed that I was on the verge because when I told him what had happened (politely and calmly, mind you, but in an I-will-not-be-trifled-with tone), he gave me an entire new bucket of 8 pieces. That was nice; in fact, it was one of the better points of my day.

Between lunch and the recital, I learned that someone I care about very much may have cancer. I won’t know for sure until later in the month when a biopsy is done, but it’s weighing heavily on my mind nonetheless.

Anyhow, we go to the recital and despite the fact that we are there 1/2 hour early, we get seats that are in the next to the last row, nosebleed section. Fine. At least the seats were tiered and I didn’t have someone’s noggin obstructing my view.

(Have I mentioned how darn annoying it is to have to go to a dance recital on Mother’s Day — one of the two days per year that I am supposed to be queen for the day?!)


But wow, isn’t she cute?!?!

Sophia’s group is the seventh group on. She has been preceded by two other groups of preschoolers as well as some older, more coordinated and experienced dancers. When Sophia’s group was dancing, you could hear a low collective roar of laughter throughout the auditorium. And while I’m sure folks were laughing at how adorably cute these girls were, Can you imagine?!?! You’re 3 or 4 years old, on stage in front of 500+ people, and all you can hear is laughter? I wanted to stand up and yell, “Shut up!” at the crowd. I just pray that the kids didn’t notice and/or weren’t bothered by it. I haven’t talked to Sophia about it because I don’t want her to start thinking it’s a big deal. Right now she is saying she wants to take dance again next year and I would hate for her to be discouraged from that.

After the recital we managed to get Sophia to nap for about one hour, then we left to have dinner at the Olive Garden with my mom and Dan’s mom. All of the adults except me enjoyed the salad. The kids and I, however, were waiting on breadsticks. We waited, and waited, and waited. Apparently the other patrons were eating them faster than the kitchen could bake them.

Finally (at least I hope this is the last thing!), as we were about to leave the restaurant, I started feeling queasy. I’ve had an upset stomach ever since then.

If you’ve read this far, thanks for “listening.” I have full confidence that tomorrow will be better. And I feel better for just typing it all out because now at least I can laugh about what a ridiculously good example of Murphy’s Law today was.


One comment

  1. That was a yuck day if ever I heard one. Today WILL be better, even if for no other reason than there are no expectations of what the day SHOULD be like.
    Big hug coming your way :::HUG:::

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