{getting over me}

The hardest person I deal with on a daily basis is...

me.

Hands down.

I'm a hot-tempered, loving, roller coaster basket case.

In a 5'2" frame.

Why I'm choosing to share about my morning, I don't know.  Maybe just a public apology to my children.  So they know I'm sorry for who I was this morning and for who I am on many mornings.

**

Today started off so great.  Spice slept all night.  That's right, all night.  I had six straight hours of sleep and felt great.  I got out of bed at 6, had my coffee, FB'd, emailed, played three games of CandyLand with Sugar (all of which I won) and then Spice woke up around 8.

The morning was relaxing.  We had a Christmas party planned with other moms and kiddos that started at 10:30 and we just went about our morning leisurely.  I realized time was getting away from us so I started getting myself and the girls ready.  Everything was fine.

Until I had to find something to wear.

All of my clothes are clean but I have nothing to wear.

I look frumpy and gross in everything I try on.  And that girdle I bought a few weeks back, yeah, she's a lil too snug now and I think I need another girdle just to stuff in what the first girdle can't hold in.

I throw on some jeans and a t-shirt that I'm positive I wore to our last get together with these moms and kids.

After throwing jeans and shirts and girdles all over my house I realize the girls' hair is a mess, I have no make up on and I forgot to put the de-frizz in my hair.

So, I'm a frumpy, frizzy mama.

Spice never complains about having her hair done.  But today she screamed. 

I was now running late and I was frustrated.

The other moms with the other kids have cute hair-styled, perfectly dressed children.

I don't have that.

But on days when we're getting together, I try to pull us together.

I shoved Spice off my lap.  Like really shoved.  Sugar came in to get her hair done and Sugar always fusses about having her hair done.  Always.  Today was no exception.  I kicked her out of the bathroom, slammed the door and called my husband.

"Talk me down from this ledge."  I tell him. 

He can't.

He can do a lot of things for me but at this moment, in my mind-set, he cannot talk me off this ledge of madness I'm feeling.

I send a text to Candee telling her my kids are sick and I won't be coming.  The couple coughs this morning probably don't count as being really sick.

Who lies to their best friends?

Apparently me.

I sit down.

Sugar comes up to me and tells me she's ready to go.  I tell her we aren't going.  Her eyes well with tears and she bolts from the house. 

In the amount of time it takes her to circle the house I utter a prayer I don't even remember.  I just know I asked for help.

She comes in.  Eyes red.  Tears fresh on her face.

"We're going." I tell her.

We're going even though my hair is wet and frizzy and I have no make-up on.  We're going even though the kids aren't in their cutest clothes and their hair is matted to their heads.  We're going even though I'm wearing the same thing I wore a few weeks ago when we got together.

And so we went.  And everyone looked great and then there was us.

But we sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and we did crafts and listened to a story.

And I chose to forget about the fact that I was wearing gold toe socks or that Sugar's socks were bright red and didn't match her clothing in the slightest.

Why did we go?

Because today wasn't about me. It wasn't about what my girls were wearing or how cute their hair looked.

It was about celebrating Jesus' birthday with other mamas and kiddos. It was about fellowship.

It wasn't easy getting out the door and putting aside my feelings but I'm glad we did.