The Last Straw

My poor husband was reminded again last night that I am emotional.  I've had a busy couple weeks at work, and I have some deadlines coming up as well.  My laundry mountain is nearing an all-time high.  After a full day at school and an afternoon of typing up plans for a substitute while I'd be in a day-long meeting, I arrived home worn out.

I couldn't rest yet.  I needed to cut out some sorting cards for my class the next day.  This year, I've also been blessed with a helpful first block.  Normally, they'd cut pieces for me, number them, and place them in ziploc bags for the rest of the day.  Since I'd have a sub, though, I was going to do this step myself.

At that moment, G entered the house and declared he needed help with homework.  G had to finish spelling.  Spelling assignments are the same every week.  He can definitely do this homework by himself, but he was having a needy moment.  I just wanted to turn my brain off.  I wanted to knit while watching my list of Bar Rescues.

Suddenly, I realized that my six piles of cut definitions and titles had gotten mixed up.  Tears streamed down my face.  I was barely hangin on.

Josh walked in and saw me crying.  He asked what was wrong.  I waved at the cards strewn on the table and sniffled, "They're all messed up!"

Josh is a good husband, and he really wanted to help me out.  What came out of his mouth, though, was "How did they get messed up?"

That word choice was the last straw.  The dining room table confetti was a metaphor for my life.  Everything was messed up.  I know that's irrational, but this emotional lady was losing it.

"I..sniff, sniff...don't...sniff...gasp...know!  I sniff, sniff, can't answer those inhale, inhale, inhale, sob...questions!  How does everything get messed up?  Sob, sob."

Then Josh moved G to the dining room table to help him write sentences for five of his spelling words.

If we're honest, we've all had meltdowns like that, right?  Once I sorted the cards, mixed each pile up, numbered them, and placed them in baggies, I realized how irrational Josh's wife was.  However, the cry was good.  I released the stress.  Josh had a talk with the boys about "leaving Mama to herself" for the night.  That's a lesson they'll need for life, too, right?  I guess my point is that we all have the occasional meltdown.  If we're lucky, we have great people to help us through them, and we a sense of humor about our meltdowns--come on--"I can't answer that question?"  Ha, ha!