I didn’t plan on having a cruddy day yesterday, it just happened automatically, without my approval. The cruddy day was a result of cruddy news. I was the recipient of news regarding betrayal, divorce, hurt, family dissolve, and likewise, cruddy.
I planned perfectly for a gunk-free evening, but the best laid plans, well you know the rest of the quote. I arrived home to a quiet house which should have been my first clue that what was, would not remain. I needed to be with my husband and have him remind me that the vows we made on our wedding day are sacred and unchangeable. I needed to talk to him, and pray, for God to place a hedge of protection around our marriage.
Within 5 minutes, our biggest boy hugged me and asked if he could make baked potatoes for dinner. After we explained what needed to be done, he kept interrupting our whispered conversation in the bedroom for further instruction and clarification. Sensitive stories lose emotion when they are constantly halted with interruption.
Baked potatoes didn’t sound good to me for dinner. I wanted to bury my face in a bowl of greasy Mexican food and fall asleep from the overload of calories and carbohydrates. My husband offered to pick up something for me to eat from any eating establishment within 5 miles, but my demand sounded selfish, so I settled for half of a baked potato topped with two eggs and Feta cheese. My feast was a failure, brimming with all things dry and ordinary and satisfied absolutely no crave neurons in my brain or stomach. Chocolate chip ice cream was a must.
I then received an e-mail stating that my son turned to talk to his neighbor during a pre-algebra test that morning and thus received a zero on his quiz. He denied talking and cheating, but admitted to turning, instead of ignoring.
The littlest first screamed at the biggest because he picked up his DS to play it and didn’t feel like sharing, and then after his time out, went outside to pat his hand in the mud.
The middle mister fought me on spelling words and insisted that he has never spelled “age” before and didn’t know that it was a spelling word, and so, didn’t have any idea how to spell the word.
After homework grumbles, shouting matches over bedtime and books, arguing with my daughter about school, and the top 100 things she hates about high school, at 10:30 in the evening, and then discovering that her vocabulary unit that was due in the morning was never started, I plunked myself on the couch.
I was too drained to talk to my husband, too frustrated to feel the need to connect, and it was too late to drown my sorrows in a hefty dose of Cougar Town.
All did not go as planned, however, by the grace of God, today is different. Date Night is planned for tomorrow, I had a cupcake for lunch, and I am wearing my headphones in hopes of avoiding any more bad news.