I/we had a fabulous weekend. Truly, so much fun. It was insanely busy with 2 soccer games (Brady & Cole), 1 flag football game (Will), 1 trip to Wegman’s for groceries, 1 trip to Costco for mass quantities of chicken/soap/insert the staple here, 1 fun night out with friends filled with some awesome Declan chatter (thanks for babysitting Nana and Grandpa!), 2 cook-outs with friends, 1 awesome, awareness-raising Journey 4 A Cure event/fundraiser (thanks to Primrose Ashburn!)…it was a busy and fun weekend and I’m sure I’m forgetting something. It was the perfect family weekend (although we were more than ready for bed on-time last night).
So why did I wake up angry this morning? Not grumpy…angry. I’ve been trying to shake it off all morning but it just keeps tugging at me. Why? There’s no reason for it, and then again there is.
He’s not here and it’s (excuse the use of the next word … I got grounded for its use in high school and my Dad still scolds me for its use at the ripe old at of 46) pissing me off lately. Maybe it’s the ‘hopes spring eternal’-ness of the spring. Maybe it’s the start of the spring sports season and Cole started soccer, alone. Maybe it’s all the darling, chubby little babies I’ve seen, each with their little Sophie the Giraffe in tow. Maybe it’s the stresses of dealing with the repercussions of 12 months without having a job. Maybe it’s because I wake up every morning with a visit from the ‘Sandman’ and am left to wonder if I’m crying in my sleep because I rarely remember my dreams (never have) and the sandman hasn’t visited me regularly in years. Maybe it’s that I’m no different from everyone else and every now and again folks just wake up angry. Maybe it’s just that my heart gets broken open every day and while it’s not outwardly apparent, it’s there and it hurts. Maybe it’s that yesterday I watched this beautiful little boy blowing bubbles into the spring breeze, over the pictures of his twin in the background … forever silenced by cancer.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Am I grateful for what I have? Absolutely! But waking up angry is just a terrible way to start the day. No leaping out of bed with a spring in my step and gay tune on my lips. Just surly and trying to feign a decent mood until the kiddos are off to school. Ick. I pray they don’t sense it but I’d be living in la la land to think they don’t … and that makes me sad. Sad for the whole experience of it all.
It does, like Declan, make me acutely aware of the moment and, most days, helps to draw my attention to it so I can pull my myself up out of it, for everyone’s sake around me (and my surly mood) but some days, I’m just … well, pissy (sorry, Dad).
(Note: I penned this before the awful events which took place in Boston yesterday. Apparently, I did not correctly post it. I am deeply saddened by the events of yesterday and am praying for all those affected.)