November 20, 2017 by Amy
Monday Monday
I had today “off,” which of course meant I was busier than if I had actually worked. I found our missing cuckoo clock for M to hang, and cleaned the nasty stuff off the feet of Zoe’s stepstool from her bathroom so we could attach new pads that are clean and not covered in adolescent girl hair and cat fur. After taking Zoe to school, I got in a 4+ mile walk which led to the complete draining of my iPhone battery. (Side rant: Ever since I upgraded to the new iOS the damn thing won’t hold a charge. Given how much I use my phone during the day, this is really starting to hack me off. It’s a 6S, so, you know, not insanely old. Heck, my contract isn’t even up until April, so it’s way less than two years old. I’ve tried all the tricks except flatlining it, which I hate doing because I’m always worried the backup won’t work and I’ll lose stuff. Ugh. Technology.) After a shower, I cleaned up around the house, placed a box on the front porch for volleyball uniforms to be dropped off, and headed out. Picked up a prescription and the dry cleaning, and took Daddy to two doctor appointments. Those took way longer than expected, but I was able to get some work done while I waited.
Then I almost lost my shit when we got back in the car and I saw it was 3:15, which is normally the time Zoe is climbing back into my car after school. I had expected to be finished a full hour earlier. Siri texted Zoe for me – because I was busy hauling ass out of the parking lot – and let her know I’d be there at 3:45, which is the last time you can pick up a kid before they ship her off to Extended Day and ding your account for the day rate. I nearly threw my poor father out my car in his driveway and took off. Thank you, Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration, for keeping St. Louis County’s finest away from my drive on Highway 270 northbound today. I made it to her school, heart pounding, with two minutes to spare.
This meant that we made it home later than expected, so I frantically chopped and diced and measured and boiled and simmered to get our homemade chicken pot pie done for dinner, which we wolfed down before heading up to PSR for the Thanksgiving prayer service.
I didn’t want to go to the prayer service. I was tired and cranky and still feeling rushed from the mad dash to pick up Zoe. I wanted to pull on stretchy pants and a baggy t-shirt and plop my butt on the couch and do nothing but wallow in my misery. But we donned our coats and gloves and walked up there, carrying our canned goods contribution for the food drive. I griped at my family for horsing around and having a good time, because nothing annoys me more than people having a good time when I most definitely am not. I clomped in and chose a chair on the end, nearest the exit, where I sat down and folded my arms across my chest and tried not to glare at everyone.
I’ll be darned if sitting there on that metal folding chair in the cafeteria, surrounded by good people and beaming children clutching their own canned goods, wasn’t exactly what I needed. I saw friends I don’t get to see often. We sang songs. We listened to scripture. We prayed for our intentions. And my heart rate slowly dropped back into the normal range. Everything feels good and right again. My friend Katie says, “Sometimes I just need to be hit with the faith stick,” and I think she’s right. Honestly, though, I wish I’d realize that on my own and do something, rather than stumbling into it almost by surprise.
I’m tired tonight, but centered again and somewhat at peace. Now it’s time to put on the stretchy pants and lounge on the couch. My day is done. Thanks be to God.
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