And then I punched my steering wheel.
That’s what ended up happening.
Let me begin with the whole story. I was in a foul mood last week. Yup. The whole week. It felt hormonal or maybe like I had drank a touch too much of the crazy juice and then it was fed by some very minor things…things not even worth mentioning because I would explain it like it was a big deal and those of you out there with normal capacity for compassion would have trouble hiding your eyes as you found them rolling in their sockets. Then you would do an extra-long blink to hide the why-is-this-even-a-topic-of-discussion-eye-roll and just look like you fell asleep in the middle of the conversation. Those of you with that weird uncanny your-problem-is-my-problem kinda empathy (you know the type…like if you have a hangnail…let’s stop everything and pray for you and cry with you and discuss the entire story of how said hangnail came to be kinda type.) are very kind but I know in my heart that it truly wasn’t a big deal and there are far more dire folks out there with far more desperate hangnail situations. Then I would feel guilty for eating up your time. And frankly…you over-empathizers are needed in todays world of aggressive hangnails.
So this story went like this…I was in a foul mood. I had to drop off some brownies at our church and I made the point of going directly after dropping off Will at preschool. I figured that if I was super early…I would avoid all human beings. I threw Weston in a cute outfit (these days that means just something that is clean) because the plan was to snap some photos of him at 10 months old and with his current hairstyle (I want to buzz off the ‘butt-cut’ but only after it’s properly documented). After dropping off Will, the car is loaded, I hand the Munchkin (that’s his current nickname…Munchkin or Munch or Munchie…which fits because the kid eats like a Hoover)…I hand him a squeeze pack of baby food like I’ve done a bazillion times, and I head down the road toward the church listening to him make his happy little squeals and sighs.
I pull up…still in a mood…and I look back to see that Munch has squeezed the entire sweet potato, apple and cinnamon mixture out of the pouch onto himself, his car seat, Will’s car seat, the car and the floor. And he is now screaming…which means the thunder down under is in the forecast, if you know what I mean.
And then I punched my steering wheel.
It was such a little thing. And definitely not worth the moment of blinding pain in my hand as I remember that I didn’t clip my fingernails and now there was four little almost-puncture wounds in my palm.
Do you ever get there? Like you are holding on by one thin thread of sanity and you might snap at any moment? I literally do not want to bite people’s heads off right now…I want to eat their entire upper half. I want to mash their cranium into their torso, reach in, tear out their tongues and then dramatically throw it onto the ground and grind it into the dirt with my heel. My mother is rolling her eyes. I can feel it through the internet.
Lately I’ve just been so bitter salty and then the littlest thing sends me over the edge…aka food pouch and a crying baby.
After cleaning up the car and Weston, I grab the foil and plastic encased food and take it inside the front doors of the church…walking really really fast when Brian, our pastor and friend pops his head into the foyer and says HI! All I could think was…why the heck is he here so early?! Doesn’t he know that I am trying to avoid human contact for the sake of not committing homicide?! I’m pretty sure Jesus frowns upon murdering your pastor in your church…even if you do leave the brownies.
I don’t think my legs have ever moved so fast….I threw a half-hearted hi over my shoulder and headed for the car. He knew something was wrong and asked if I was okay…
I had made it to the sidewalk but not far enough to pretend I didn’t hear him…so I spun on my heal and basically yelled…
“I’M PREGNANT AND HORMONAL!”
and walked briskly off.
Thanks Brian for taking one for the team. Jeremy probably appreciates it more than anyone. Oh and in attempt to get into a better mood, I stopped at a local shop called the Stone Mountain Pecan Company and picked up three pounds of chocolate covered food and took a couple dozen photos of Munchie. They have a killer pumpkin display.
Needless to say…the chocolate helped. The photos of Weston? They changed things for me…at least for this moment. And my steering wheel? It works just fine