If you read my first blog post today you know that my morning was a bit rough. Stephen is usually at work long before it’s time to take the girls to school but thankfully this morning he was home. He drove the two oldest and I took Bailey to preschool at 8:30 a.m. I did not shower or even brush my hair. I did put on yoga pants (shocking), pulled back my hair, and rubbed off some mascara leftover from yesterday. I was just going to pop into the school with Bailey and pop right back out and be on my merry way. Right??? Wrong.
Bailey’s school is inside our church and our church is located at the intersection of two busy streets in town. The best place to park when it is cold, or hot, or well anytime if you have a little kid, is on a downhill slope next to the building. Traffic is zooming down the hill so getting out on the driver’s side must be done with caution. Pulling out also must be done carefully.
I parked on a piece of ice that has decided it will melt when hell freezes over. I know better but I parked there on Wednesday and had no problems. So I released the emergency break on my minivan and try to leave my parking space. Unfortunately my car slid just enough that I could not clear the car parked in front of me. I put the van in reverse and proceeded to spin my front tires. I started sweating. You know, that instant feeling of perspiration when you realize you are in a bad situation? I could feel my eyes filling up with tears. If I was going to make a scene I wish I had at least worn my “good” yoga pants and didn’t look a cast member from “The Walking Dead”. I tried to break up the ice with a shovel the church secretary found but it was like concrete. Then I called my friend Tomi Jean who works at her family’s body and towing shop. She sent her brother, Dexter, to my rescue.
Dexter pushed my van backward and then pushed me out onto the street. I couldn’t even thank him properly because I had to keep moving. So I yelled “I love you!!” out my open window. I’m sure he was thinking “That’s a crazy one…” He would be correct.
I am done seeking today.
I started this Friday morning seeking something. I think I was looking for peace, maybe contentment. I was anticipating a new day. The kind of day that would be better than yesterday.
At 6 a.m. my four year old screamed and then ran to my room. She said she heard a scary sound. I settled her down and a few minutes later Stephen crawled back into our bed after sleeping downstairs most of the night because he was on call. I moved Bailey to the couch and crawled back into bed myself for 20 minutes.
By 6:30 a.m. I was in the kitchen making a special Valentine’s Day breakfast. Actually, I had to make two meals: one for Riley and Lily and one for Bailey that was egg, milk, and peanut free. I did pumpkin muffins for my food allergy kid and homemade heart pancakes for the other two. All was going well and then I dropped an egg. My response was anything but lovely. I used some words you don’t usually find on Valentine’s Day cards. Now we had a hazmat situation on our hands due to Bailey’s severe egg allergy. I can’t just leave the mess for later. So Stephen and I cleaned it up together and he packed Lily’s lunch since it was becoming obvious there wouldn’t be enough Welbutrin to get me through the morning.
I put breakfast on the table and forgot about the cute heart plates and napkins I bought for this morning. Oh well. As I pressed my less than cooperative heart cookie cutter into the pancakes, one daughter announced that she didn’t want pancakes. It took every ounce of my being not to throw those damn (but really cute) hearts across the room. Stephen gave her some pumpkin muffins and I stepped away from the kitchen before I said something I would regret. I heard Bailey announce the scary sound that woke her early was her own breathing.
Teeth were brushed, backpacks sat ready, and the girls were getting dressed. One is wearing pants that are too short because they are part of her approved three pant rotation. I’ll spare you the details of that situation. Another claimed her shirt “felt weird on her skin.” Lord have mercy. The third could sense the tension and did everything on her own. Yes, my most independent today was my youngest.
I didn’t find what I was seeking, at least not yet. I might not find it tomorrow either. But it has to be better than this morning, right? So here’s to all the moms, dads, and caregivers looking for a better day. It WILL come but it might not look exactly the way we were hoping. In the meantime just take a deep breath and try not to drop any eggs.
My first love was an older man. We met when I was really young but the difference in age never mattered. I remember holding his hand when I crossed the street, left a basketball game, or any other time for no reason. Maybe people stared. I never noticed.
We spent a lot of time together. I remember going on long drives. On one particular lengthy trip we listened to the “La Bamba” soundtrack and I sang every word. I didn’t feel self conscience. Even though I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, he laughed and seemed genuinely happy with my performance.
As I grew older my love for him changed. I still loved being with him but was distracted by other boys and interests. But he never left me. Even when I wasn’t the kind girl he met so many years ago, he stuck by my side.
I could be having the worst day of my life and this love of mine would cheer me up. He had a tendency to spoil and I must admit, I cherished the moments when I felt like the most important girl in the world.
He always said that one day I would meet someone else and he would no longer be the love of my life. I told him that was crazy. But like so many other things, he was right. I met someone else who made me feel something completely new. My first love was still a phone call away and he made it clear that I deserved only the best. He would never stand in my way as I moved on but he would make damn sure this new man was worthy.
Many years passed and I was amazed to learn that I could have two amazing men in my life. Each loved me in a different way. But I could never leave that first love behind. You see, we met when I was approximately one second old. We had a history together. Heck, we shared DNA. Rarely a day passed that we did not speak to each other; in person, by phone, or by email. I once sent him a text and he immediately called to inform me he did NOT text. That was okay. I preferred hearing his voice anyway.
I assumed this sweet man and my very best friend would live forever. He was just that type of person. It has been almost two years since my first love left this world before I had a chance to say goodbye. He was terrible at goodbyes. They always made him cry.
I have decided I would never be able to actually utter a farewell to him anyway so I never will. I will listen for his voice in my memory and look for him in my dreams. After all, true love never dies.