Jan 24, 2010
Mindy Harris and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
Yesterday wasn't good. At all. At least the first half.
Wilder's been battling an ear infection but given his persistent fever, I took him in for blood work. That confirmed that he has a secondary problem, a virus. He has NO appetite; spits out all the things he used to love. He was a good patient, but it froze my heart to see him have blood drawn. And I wished Shawn had been there. He was working.
So that's another reason why things've been a little tricky. Shawn's doing overtime hours, even though he is ill, but we have just one car...and I go psycho if I have to stay inside for more than, oh, a day. So we take turns.
This leads me to the next issue:
I quasi-wrecked said one car. I was running late for a hair appointment, which I was giddily anxious about (oh, to sit on one's rear for a few hrs), when I careened around a windy part by the river and popped my tire on the curb (it was loud, like a "real" car accident). The car just scarily went it's own way...clunk, clunk, clunk... until I landed parallel-parked in front of a pretty Riverside home. Their door was open and I wanted to go in and lay on their couch and tell them my problems and have homemade lemonade.
I was hysterical, crying, and angry at myself. I had wanted to hurry to Shawn's work to get some coupons since our printer is out of ink, so I could get $10 off the dang haircut. I hadn't yet put makeup on so I was trying to do that and drive. I don't recommend that.
A range of thoughts jogged through my head, the primary being that I sacrificed my and the new baby's safety for a fluff of powder to the face. This makeup thing has become too important and I just need to let it go. The whole point was to be okay looking at myself in the mirror for 2+ hours at the beauty school. They plop you right in front of a mirror, and who am I kidding when I say we all can't help but to look at ourselves?
Meanwhile, Shawn's parents were watching Wilder and couldn't come pick me up because "Papa" had locked his keys in their van (locksmith 2.5 hrs late). So I composed myself and tried to look "normal" for the walk home...although who walks around holding a dirty, cracked hubcap they've found yards away from their car? And my baggy maternity pants were inching toward my ankles; my uterus on its way there, too.
I missed my appointment and felt I deserved it. The accident was my fault, a result of stress and anxiety and rushing. An example of ignoring my body's signals to calm down and breathe.
I've mentioned a book before, Captivating, and I can't quote it verbatim because IT'S IN THE CAR that Shawn took to work (spare tire), but it denotes something like, "a woman at rest invites others to be at rest." When I'm around friends or family, I try to make them feel special and invited into my space, whether that's the physical space of my home, or the invisible one of my heart. Others can sniff out an attitude pretty quick.
I just didn't think I'd ever be in a place where my car was at a literal, commanded, no turning back, mandatory rest. A place of aloneness in a car I've come to loathe, then re-appreciate. I was given the opportunity to buck up, compose myself and pray, because, well,
I had nowhere else to be.