**This post may contain too much information, especially for you brothers**
Here's what happened. I had been hyper emotional for several days (I do this every once in a while) and it seemed to come to a head on Tuesday. I did some electrical work in the morning and, like all projects in this house, it took ten times longer than it should have. After a series of frustrations, I sat down at the computer to find this picture:
Tears instantly welled up in my eyes. A dear friend's father recently passed away. He wasn't much older than my dad and I keep finding myself calling my dad just to hear him. So that was part of the reason for my tears. But, look at this picture. My parents have been married for thirty-eight years and they just fit. Dad's posture shows that he has a claim on his good woman and the way Mom is tucked into his shoulder says that she is in the very place she most wants to be.
Then, I clicked on the next attachment to find this: "I need my Mom!" I wailed. This picture gives away the fact that she is wise. Her arms give me respite, her heart gives me understanding and her mind gives me direction.
But, I had commitments, it's a long drive, and we only have one car. The comfort of my parents' house could not be had.
All of Tuesday, I kept crying for no good reason. (Though one major reason was the negative pregnancy test that I was SURE would be positive.) When my husband came home, I sat on the couch and blubbered about all of my nothings that add up to something so huge.
"What do you need?" he asked.
"I just need my mom."
"Well, why don't you go?"
I explained why I couldn't. We finally determined for me to leave our oldest home with Dad, rely on the help of a friend and his car and take a girl's trip.
It's a fairly easy decision, but a huge undertaking. I rushed around catching up on laundry, cleaning out the van and checking it's vital signs. My son and I went to the grocery store at eleven o'clock at night in order to have the kinds of food that an eleven year old could prepare for he and his dad. After the house was in order, the giant task of moving my army of girls was next. Clothes for everyone, don't forget socks and shoes. The toddler is potty training so we'll need to bring every pair of underwear in the house. They will need hair ties, activities for the nine hour drive, individually packaged trail mix since there will be no other adult to pass out portion sizes to the impatient baby birds in the back seats. Make sure the ones staying home have all of the instructions they'll need during my absence then try to get a little sleep so I don't fall asleep driving my precious cargo.
And so, I dropped everything and went to my mom's arms. It was what I needed--it was what my girls needed. (More about that in another post.)
On Tuesday I was falling apart, by Wednesday morning I was driving. About 300 miles in to our journey, I started my first period since September 2007. Yes. 2007. It's arrival explained a lot.
We are home, now. It's a funny thing about running away from your problems; they wait for your return. Today I'll try to repair all that is broken, clean all that is dirty, organize all that is scattered, and not be frustrated with the lady who was trying to help when she brought my six and four year old home from the corner (50 feet away) because "I have small children, too, and it's just not safe for them to be that close to a busy street." I almost flipped her off.
Off to work. Catch y'alls latah!