Yet here I am, all day, on the brink of tears like a big ol’ crybaby. Hello, pregnancy hormones. How nice of you to make sure I know who’s calling the shots.
I won’t go into detail, but it feels like every big thing I’ve had a handle on and planned for over the next several months has come crashing down, all in one day. In prickly bits and pieces. A bummer situation the evening before, a sobering realization at lunch, a tiny disagreement with a loved one, a rescheduling of best laid plans in the sleepy afternoon, and then some seriously bad news at the end of the work day…and what do you know?
The glass house has shattered. Everything is a mess. The Elmer’s Glue did NOT HOLD.
Weeping, gnashing of teeth, and poor, pitiful me.
It’s like that time I got bucked off a horse.
A couple of months prior, I had a life change that was not smooth. It was difficult. It was a hard learning experience, but I got through it and moved on, to some degree. Or so I thought.
After the horse bucked me, as I was finally coming to my senses on the way to the ER (concussion and all), I just kept asking Brady, “Brady, what bad thing happened? Something really bad happened, didn’t it?”
He kept telling me that I got bucked and trampled and hit my head, but I was gonna be just fine.
I got all that; that’s not what I was talking about. That’s not what was giving me that ugly feeling inside. It was something else, but I couldn’t remember it yet. I just knew that something awful had happened; it was like it was happening all over again. So I just kept asking until I figured it out. Until he figured out what I was talking about.
“Brady, what bad thing happened? Something really bad just happened, didn’t it?”
That’s how I feel now. I’ll be working away or driving or washing dishes or whatever, and I can’t shake this THING. This ugly feeling inside, and I don’t know where it’s coming from right away. So I keep asking myself, “What bad thing just happened?” And then: “Oh yah. That.”
Cue the water works.
It’s just another reminder that I seriously have no control, no matter how much I think I need it or how sure I feel of things. This is hard for me. I’m sure it’s hard for lots of people.
I know that I’m just supposed to have faith and trust and wait to see what better comes down the pike as a result of these changes, but sister mercy that is hard.
I should take some lessons from my husband.
This is him hanging from something or propped on something or something. I don’t look at it too long, because I don’t want him to fall. What’s with always having to be up as high as possible on EVERYTHING? Doesn’t welding ever take place on the GROUND?
Very little riles him. He kind of takes it all as it comes. I am so the opposite of this, it’s not even funny.
And this has become such a downer; I don’t even know how to finish it.
He was helping a friend with a welding job. It was an entrance…with this large, behemoth pipe gate. I wonder if he volunteered to be the one to go up to the top, or if he was asked.
Yesterday evening, Brady and Katie met me in town on my way home, and we ate a fancy supper at Subway. Cookies AND chips…we spared no expense. After sandwiches and chips were polished off, Brady handed Katie half a chocolate chip cookie. She took it with a huge grin and looked over at me, cookie paused in thin air. She was looking at me like, “Um, look what Daddy gave me…this is okay, right? I mean, Daddy gave it to me….”
Every time he hands her something she doesn’t usually eat – cookies, candy, fruit juice – she gives me that look. I think it illustrates our little trio just about right. Daddy is the fun and adventure. Mama is the rule-maker and usual enforcer. Baby Girl is the timid one that wants to be a good girl but also wants to do the cha-cha and slide down the fun slide with Daddy.
I witnessed this again the other day when we were all three outside, enjoying some nice weather before winter decided to hit just one more time and take our electricity and water with it. She and I were outside watering and playing, and Daddy was putting a round bale out with the tractor for the horses. She wanted to ride. After I handed her up to him, I started rolling up all the big hoses and putting all our tools and toys away. And I thought to myself:
Daddy is the hero giving the fun and tractor rides. Mama is the pack horse loading up the yard.
And really, thank goodness. I am mentally and physically incapable of letting go like he can, and I don’t want my girl to only know that way. I want her to know how to be relaxed and how to play and try new things and look for adventures, and she can get that with her daddy.
And so on we go with the highs and the lows. Everything will turn out okay, one way or the other.
And to lighten things up a bit….