I was looking over the latest newsletter from my older son’s kindergarten prep class when I saw the addition. Mother’s Day Tea would be 12:30 on Friday, May 16th. Oh [expletive deleted]. Do I have to go?
Let me back up so that you can understand my true dilemma, because it wasn’t really that I didn’t want to drink tea and listen to the songs my son’s class would most likely sing to the moms. Well, not entirely that.
See, last week I asked Sparky, at the suggestion of my therapist, for a night on my own at a hotel. Sparky said no. Followed by, “You need two nights because I really think you need to wake up there, have the whole day for yourself, and then go to sleep there with no one accosting you.” I seriously love that man.
Sparky told me to pick a weekend, but I had a better idea. His team has been working really hard lately (Sparky especially) and their boss just gave them five days off to use in the next two weeks. So I suggested I go to the hotel on Wednesday night and come home Friday afternoon. That way, the kids will be in school for most of the days that he’s caring for them. Much better than a weekend, where he would have no break until I got home. Bonus for me, too, because it’s less likely that he’ll be catatonic when I get back home.
I found an awesome-looking hotel and booked it for next week.
Then I got the newsletter. Crap. What’s that you say? Since I was planning to come home that afternoon anyway, what difference does a 12:30 appointment make?
A lot, actually. I’d have to actually look presentable, which means getting ready early and leaving the hotel by 11:30 at the very latest. I would have to take nice clothes – it is a tea after all.
So what, you ask?
So, I had plans, people. Fabulous, gorgeous plans for that afternoon. The hotel check out isn’t until 1pm and I planned to check out no earlier than 12:59. Then I was going to have a leisurely lunch and go for a massage. I’d pick up some dinner for the kids on the way home, something like pizza that they would not fight me on eating, and return to my family a refreshed, relaxed woman, capable of handling situations without yelling or breaking down into a sobbing heap on the floor. The serenity might even last until noon on Saturday, when BamBam would, once again, decide to change his own poopy diaper.
I don’t want to give up those plans. I need them. My family needs me to get them. I resisted the thought of changing the reservation to this week because it didn’t give me much time to get ready. I got the newsletter yesterday and today is Tuesday, after all. I’d need to leave tomorrow night.
I’m exhausted, I’m snapping at people, and I’m taking extra anxiety medication almost every day. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me I need to take care of myself RIGHT NOW.
But I’m not ready. I seriously considered skipping the tea. I know, I’d be the worst mother in the world. I don’t really care what the other parents in the class think of me. I don’t even care what the teachers think. But I do, very much, care what Zoo Keeper thinks. I’m pretty sure he would be crushed. And that would break my heart.
So I changed my reservation to this week.