I
woke up in the middle of the night two nights ago wracked with mom guilt.
I was in my hotel room in Atlanta, after traveling for work on a Sunday. Both
girls had begged me not to leave. Ugh. I don’t need to tell you how bad
that sucks. I get home Wednesday from this trip, I leave 7 days
later for a personal trip (more on this later), return from that trip and then
12 days later I travel for work again. In the middle of all this we have
Kinder and PreK Orientation Night, Meet the Teacher Night and our first day of
school. And it’s not just ANY school year, y’all. This is the FIRST
ever school year in what we pray is our forever home and forever schools.
There are back to school clothes and shoes and backpacks and lunchboxes and EpiPen/Allergy
Survival kits for the nurse and forms. Ohhhh the forms. And do we
want to talk about my fear over food allergies/EpiPens? Holy shit y’all,
it’s all enough to make a mama insane.
So I
wake up in the middle of the night with the urgent thought “I need ice packs
for lunches". Where that came from, I have no idea but there I was
thinking about it. And they can’t be toxic
gel ice packs” (hi, I’m half-a-hippie don’t ya know), so I spend an hour from
3:30-4:30am researching tree hugger ice packs, add a bunch to my Amazon cart
before I go cross eyed and decide to wait until daylight hours when I’m more
awake to complete my research/finalize the purchase. Then I put down my
phone and attempt to go back to sleep.
But
my mind is racing…. I probably shouldn’t go on this personal trip. It’s a
cruise with one of my besties. We both NEEEEEED this. We both work
like maniacs and have small kids and are starting kindergarten this year and
are STRESSED OUT juggling ALL THE THINGS Y’ALL! Nobody needs this
trip like we do. I mean, maybe some fellow mamas I know, but trust me
when I say how desperately we need to get away. But there I am, laying in
my hotel bed at 4:30am thinking I shouldn’t go. It’s too much. I
can’t do EVERYTHING. Something’s got to
give and this is one thing that can give. I need to stay home and make
sure the girls’ lunches get packed lest they eat some food that could kill them
their first week of school while I’m away.
I’d never be able to live with myself if they got exposed to something
and had a bad reaction while I was laying on the Carnival Victory sundeck. F*ck!
How pissed will Angela be if I cancel? We bent over backwards to
make this work but she loves me, she gets it, she’ll get over it. I mean,
we basically had to find the hypercolor unicorn, purple squirrel of weekends to
make it work (recruiting terminology there, sorry). But we’ll figure it
out, we can do it later. I cried and said all these things to myself so many
times I guess I eased my stressed out mama brain enough to fall back to
sleep. At 6am. My alarm went off at 6:15. Ugh.
Worked
all day Monday. Met with all the
people. Did all the things. Got back to the hotel around 6pm. I had planned for a 7:15pm massage at the
massage place next to the hotel. In the
middle of convincing myself I DID deserve that trip and it was OK to allow
myself to go on a 3 day cruise, I was talking myself OUT of the massage I had
already scheduled. I didn’t need
that. I was fine. I should just go back to my hotel room and
finish that report I didn’t have time to do today.
But
alas, it was too late to cancel. So now
I shall give you a sampling of my stream on consciousness during my not so
relaxing massage:
· Ohh
it smells good in here. But I bet it’s
toxic plug in. Shit. It’s for sure fake
fragrance. I’m not supposed to like that crap. But it DOES smell good. Crap, it’s definitely not healthy to be
whiffing that for an hour. I’m probably
going to get a headache from that. Whatever.
It’ll be fine. I’m fine.
Calm down Kelly
· Why doesn’t
my face ever seem to fit in the face holes?
Is my face a weird shape?
· OK,
here she goes. Glad I asked for a lady
this time. Last time the dude here was a
little too…I dunno close. I mean, I know
someone massaging you means they are going to be close to you. That’s how it works. But he was, just, too much. Or am I crazy. I’m probably crazy. I’ve had other male massage therapists
before. No big deal. Calm down Kelly.
· But I
shouldn’t dismiss the feeling I had, should I?
I had it for a reason. This is
how men get away with shit. Women
dismiss men’s bad behaviors as our own craziness. I will not set that example for my
girls.
· Ugh. Calm down Kelly, it was just a massage.
· Shit. I forgot to order a nap mat for Lucy. Need to get on that. And a beach towel for Ellis – the moms on the
Dripping Springs Facebook Moms page said Kinder kids needed beach towels for “rest
time” even though it wasn’t on the supply list.
I should get her a cute new one and not make her use one of our old ones
so she’ll be excited about nap time with her special towel and actually nap. But do I really want her to nap. I mean, she
naps now at PreK, but she’s getting old…will napping at Kinder mess with her
sleep schedule.
· Geez. Calm down Kelly, it will all work itself out.
· Shit.
I need teacher gifts for the first day.
I saw Brandi Brynie post pictures of hers. They were so cute. Did I order that pre-packaged kit of gifts I
saw in my FB feed? Such a good idea that
mama had to sell those. I can’t remember
if I ordered. I need to check my emails
to see if there’s a confirmation email.
If not, I’ll just get a gift card or make something oily. Do I even have
time to do that? Ugh. I guess it’s no big deal if I don’t have it
on the first day. If I get it to her by
Friday of the first week it’ll be fine.
· Dude
Kelly, calm your shit down.
· I
really need to work on that report when I get back to my hotel room
· Gahhhhh,
I can’t even relax during a massage.
Stop thinking about stuff Kelly.
Very consciously trying to
calm down, I zenned out somewhere between her karate chopping my back and
rubbing my calves for like 10 minutes until the lady asked me to roll over
After rolling over:
· Dang,
I feel skinny when I lay flat on my back.
Why can’t everything stay where it is when I sit up. That’s bullshit. It’s so hard to be healthy and skinny and
have your gray hairs covered and nails done and do a good job at work and be a present
mother and ALL. THE. THINGS.
· Wait,
is she putting on gloves to rub my feet? Am I that disgusting? What the hell? I mean, I’m fleshy and freckley
but am I so gross she needs to wear gloves? My feet are clean and
manicured. Nahhhh.
No way. This is her issue, not
mine. But I wonder why. Are most people so gross she feels the need
to wear gloves? Yeah, probably. But not me.
Obviously, I smell like a bag of lavender, which I doused myself in
before coming here.
· Gahhhh
Kelly, calm down. WTF do you care about
her feet issues. Just relax and enjoy.
Layla pops into my head. She does every day.
· Gosh
Kelly, how can you sit here and stress about all this dumb shit when Layla is
gone….get over yourself. Your shit is
NOTHING.
· What
can you do for Layla’s Legacy? The issue
is SO huge, how can you even make a difference?
It seems insurmountable. But Sara
doesn’t say that. She just pushes
on. Come on Kelly, DO MORE. Brain cancer is a f*cker.
· Gosh
that poor family in Buda that just got the DIPG diagnosis that you read about
today. F*uck.
· Ok,
ok. I’m gonna ask around again tomorrow
for donations or auction items for Layla’s Gold Gala. There’s no need to be nervous to ask people….it’s
not about you. Get over yourself.
Thinking about Layla stops
all my nonsense stress thinking for a moment and tears steam down my face. I’m thankful there’s a towel covering my
face.
· Gosh,
I’m glad this lady can’t see me crying under this towel while laying here. Or
can she? Whatever, people probably cry
on this table all the time. But even if
not, even if I’m the only crier ever in the history of this massage table, this
lady would cry too if she knew about Layla.
· OK,
seems like she’s wrapping up. Wait. What is she doing? Why is she stretching and bending my legs
like that….I’m too old for her to fold my legs like that up into my abdomen. And despite having surgery to fix it, my bladder was destroyed from back-to-back pregnancies and she ain't what she used to be. WTF?!?
This isn’t table yoga. I’m gonna pee myself if she keeps pressing my
leg into my gut like that. Holy crap,
lady, stop that. I’m gonna pee. Shit. Now I’m about to start laughing at the thought of peeing after crying
laying here on this table. Shit, now I’m
giggling. I can’t stop. For god’s sake this lady probably thinks I’m
wackadoo.
· Stop
giggling Kelly!
· She’s
done. Awesome. I have GOT to get up with a quickness and go
potty. Lord Kelly, you’re a grown ass
woman. You have to go to the RESTROOM,
not the potty.
· Oh my
gosh, I do not have time to fiddle with this bra in this dark room. I’m gonna pee myself. Just shove your bra in your purse, get your
clothes on and GO.
I shove my bra into my purse
but it barely fits in my little crossbody bag.
· Ugh. I for sure do not have time now to take my
shirt back off to put on my bra then put my shirt back on, just make it work
Kelly! You can put in on after you go potty
to the restroom. Just don’t pee yourself
in this massage room. It is highly
doubtful those cheap sheets will soak up your puddle.
I fling open the door and look to the
right, scanning for the bathroom.
Nope. Turn my head quickly to the
left while taking a step forward, looking for the bathroom and run into a lady
that was coming down the hall. My bra
pops out of my purse and onto the floor. We both just look down at it.
And you know what my first thought is…..F*UCK
IT ALL. GO ON THE CRUISE.
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