Recently, I decided that I was losing my mind. I realized this as I tried to come up with the reasons why I had decided to go back to school and endure two years of grueling work – like five classes that start in a week. Why I was working two jobs – one that I really enjoy which doesn’t pay very much but is really satisfying in a much deeper way and another job that taxes my brain sometimes and makes me feel really dumb. And oh, then the reality of being a mom, chauffeur, wife and sometimes really bad cook.
I realized that trying to be all things to all people at all times means giving up things like matched pairs of socks and cold milk. Cold milk you ask. Cold milk I say.
And this is why I believe I have lost my mind. St. Patrick’s Day- a few days back arrived cool, crisp and clear. I made breakfast for the DS and prepared lunched for DH and DS. I readied myself for work after dutifully planting kisses on cheeks of said husband and son.
Off we trotted to our respective destinations in the wee hours on the day of the Irish. My son to school to learn the golden rule; my husband to work, from which he did not shirk; and me to play with my three year olds hurray!
So we went. And so I returned to the domicile four hours later where I began to unload the dishwasher and put the dishes away. As I opened a cupboard there grinning at me was a face on the side of the milk carton. I wondered what it was doing in there with the plates.
It was a half gallon container. Almost full. Now warm. It was supposed to be in the refrigerator. It was not supposed to be in the cupboard. I scratched my head and truly began to wonder whether I had completely lost my marbles, every single last one.
And this is when I decided to share my latest debacle with my dearest and bestest friend from years back (we are delicate in our doting age of agelessness and shall simplify refer to our friendship as entering a golden period). In any case, I lamented my inability to put a simple carton of milk back from whence it came.
On and on I yowled like a petulant child or a hungry cat. In either case, an email groaning is not a pleasant way to start one’s day or end one’s night. And this being St. Patty’s Day no less. I asked my dearest and best friend whom I shall call Karen Alice, if I was indeed losing my mind. And her answer is below. It says it all and it says why she is indeed my dearest and bestest friend (next to my Dear Husband of course who already has the number for the neighborhood men in white on auto dial – just in case…)
As told to me by Karen Alice:
"well...I'll tell you what my sisters told me when I WAS losing my mind: "No you're not, You're awesome, remember how good you are at______, do something nice for yourself, things will get better....
But on the off chance that you lost your mind and I find it, I'm keeping it... when Nathan was home for weekend and little cousins and such were visiting, the dishes were so high in the sink, I couldn't see out the window, there were so many pillows and blankets on the floor, I couldn't walk, my feet were so sore, but I still didn't get to bed until 12 midnight. and I call that a pretty good, fun weekend!
Maybe the leprechauns will put a wee little spring in your step, I've been warming up my best Irish Brogue all afternoon. Have a wonderful day my special lassie.
I love you,
Karen Alice St. Murphy
Now, I may be losing my mind, but with a friend like Karen Alice, I don't think I can get much luckier than that!