It was a Friday morning. I had already worked 4 nights and was heading in for a 5th of the week. I was greasy. I was gross. And I was having a first class MELTDOWN. It was ugly cry sobbing.
I do believe the best quote during my rampage was, "You know what babe(Rob)? There's only a couple of things that I'm good at. One, I'm really good at sitting on my butt and two, I'm really great at eating chocolate! And that's it! I'm just awful at anything else!!!" And then the crying continued. I went on and on about how my life is so out of control, how our house is a total pigsty. How I'm really not that great of a mother. How I'm getting chunky. How I don't have any discipline whatsoever. It went on forever. I couldn't stop crying. And my dear sweet husband just hugged me.
It was amazingly pathetic, but I'm pretty sure some of you out there might have had this happen to them as well. Sometimes it's all too much. And you know what else I do when I feel this way? I tell myself what a pathetic pile of doo-doo I am because I AM NOT STARVING TO DEATH. I AM NOT UNDER A PILE OF RUBBLE IN HAITI. I HAVE NOT BEEN SWEPT AWAY BY A TSUNAMI. I HAVE NOT LOST A CHILD TO A SEXUAL PREDATOR.
And that is when the true ugly soul in me pops out. I am sitting in a warm house with loved ones. I have a fridge (or two) stocked with food. Yet, I am crying like it's the end of the world.
Fast forward about 30 minutes. I am still crying. It has slowed to a medium sniffle but yes, I can't stop crying. My husband in desperation has left for Starbucks hoping maybe a latte will stop the flow. I mean seriously, after awhile, what's a guy to do?
It's at this point that this sweet almost 2 year old Ethiopian boy climbs up on to the couch. Mind you, I am still in a fetal position. My sweet boy, crawls up to me, and wedges himself into my chest. This dear sweet child takes his hand and pats me on the shoulder and whispers "oh mommy". And while he just pats me and rubs me it occurs to me, maybe in all my faults and ugliness; I have done something right.
