Those of you playing the home game know that yesterday some losers broke into our house. Here’s a link to that post if you’re behind the times: Being Burglarized Blows. It hasn’t been edited and has a lot of swearing, so I apologize for that.
Today has been weird. We were supposed to be busy all day long with a citywide little league baseball opening day, complete with team pictures, three games, and a parade, but first it was drizzly and uncomfortable, then all-out pouring, then thunderstorms, then sort of okay. Everything was kind of half-assed, the last part of the day was cancelled. Just frustrating all around. Kind of perfectly ties in with the way we’re all feeling.
My little section of the Twin Cities is very much a small town within a major metro area. So word gets around fast. And since I couldn’t hide at home, I felt like part sideshow, part curiosity, part celebrity, part news story. Even though I write tidbits about things that go on in our life, being the center of attention is definitely not within a 20,000 mile radius of my comfort zone. So that was all very weird. People are very sweet and supportive, but it’s just a lot to deal with all at once. Friends and family have called, and I just haven’t even had the mental energy to get back to them.
Last night we all very much bonded as a family. But tonight is like a delayed hangover, and the tension is evident. Barry and I are snapping at each other. David escaped to a sleepover at his friend’s house, where he feels safe. Cameron is being defiant and antagonizing everyone. Poor Justin just gave out, and went to bed at 8:30. Alex just finished throwing a 20-minute long tantrum over a cookie.
I’m the one who usually holds it together, which can be exhausting. It takes a lot to get me flustered, and I can maintain an icy cool disposition in the most stressful situations. But the downside to that is that by projecting a strong front for everyone else, I don’t allow myself time to process my own feelings, which are becoming stronger as the day wears on.
Most likely what will happen is that sometime in the next two weeks when it all hits me, I’ll burst into tears and sob hysterically over some relatively minor tribulation, like the gas nozzle overflowing at the filling station, or spilling a bowl of popcorn on the floor, or if the grocery store is out of the pineapple Chobani yogurt. I won’t see it coming, and it will be ugly.
So I’ve got that to look forward to.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2012