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Dec
23
Happy almost Christmas! I’ve finished -and survived- my grad school semester, with just a couple of dark circles under my eyes to show for it. So glad to be finished for a few weeks.
I have to confess. I kept waiting to feel the holiday spirit, but I don’t. I haven’t felt festive or joyous or merry. In fact, I’ve read about people that get seriously depressed by the holidays, and for the first time, I felt that way. It has not been pretty. I’m not making light of it, because I’ve dealt with depression before and there’s nothing light about it. It just kind of snuck up on me in the past few weeks.
A little over a week ago, I was just done. DONE. I didnt want to get out of bed. I wanted December to be over. My husband gently but firmly convinced me that on that particular day, a Sunday, I needed to get up and go to church with my family. Very grudgingly, I did.
My heart was pretty closed that day, I just felt horrible. You know where this story is going, right? Somehow, when the priest talked, it was like he knew how dark my heart felt. I won’t repeat everything, but his message couldn’t have been more fitting for me.
One of the things he said was something about how we are supposed to give, no matter what we are lacking. We all have something to give. He said, if you have two coats, give one to someone who needs it. That also spoke directly to me. We don’t have a lot and sometimes the list of things we need seems overwhelming and impossible, but I have two coats. More than two. My sons have two coats. We all have plenty of coats, and we are all warm. I need to remember that too many people don’t even have that.
I cried throughout that church service, I couldn’t stop. But I was better. It was the boost I needed to make it through this month. It was hope, which I was greatly lacking.
My kids and I cleaned out our closets yesterday. We took three garbage bags full of clothes – and coats – to a local charity. That put some much needed joy in my heart.
We all have something to give, even in our darkest days. What can you give?
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Dec
10
Overwhelmed, buried, stressed out, burnt out, tired. Did you guess “words that describe Sheri right now”? If so, you win!
No time to chat, or sleep, but I wanted to share a moment of my day with you. This moment is symbolic of how my entire week has gone.
Picture the great state of Oklahoma in all its glory. In all of Oklahoma, there is only one small patch of ice. Just one. So it should be easy to avoid. Huh. Not quite, because now you can picture me, flat on the ground in the parking lot of my doctors office, after I found the only patch of ice in Oklahoma. Of course I did. Its my gift.
I did see the ice just as I stepped on it. I knew what was going to happen, but I had nothing to grab. My elbow and butt hit the ground hard. I was sure I heard bone crunch but I think it was my pride disintegrating. At times like that, I really envy toddlers. Its perfectly acceptable for them to cry and wail and weep and moan when they fall, even if they are only two feet from the ground and land on soft carpet in their padded diapers. I wanted to cry and moan and wail, although I’m not sure if it was because of the pain or the absolute mortification I was feeling. Instead, I propped myself up and hobbled across the parking lot.
I would like to say that my son, who was walking ahead of me, was a gentlemen and only expressed concern for his dear mother. No. He did ask if I was okay before busting into loud uncontrollable laughter. Apparently he saw the ice in time to avoid it. Hmph. He did come back and help me stand up and held my arm as we walked. While he laughed.
They say life is like a box of chocolates. Sometimes, life is like one big patch of ice just waiting for me to crash and burn.
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Dec
4
I might be over Christmas. Over as in, moving on. Oh, not over the holiday. Over the frenzy that seems to start earlier and earlier every year. I’m seriously considering dropping out of the whole thing.
Christmas – the holiday – is probably my favorite time of the year. I love the start of cold weather, the twinkling lights on the houses, pretty trees lit up in windows, and Christmas music. I don’t love the comercialized version of this holiday. I never have, but as I get older and crankier, I don’t want to participate anymore.
I long ago decided that the Black Friday shopping madness was not for me. Lately I’ve been thinking that I want to avoid the shopping madness all season long, not just on Black Friday. When did this holiday become all about bargains and sales and long lists of wants? I could be wrong, but it seems like we’re missing the point.
For me, this is very much a religous holiday. However, I respect other people’s beliefs and don’t want to assume that it is about religon for anyone else. But since that is my belief, then all this buying and shopping is contrary to what I really want to be celebrating right now. My family. Our health. Friends. Not getting the best deal on the latest and greatest electronic gadget.
I won’t lie. If money was no object – and it has always been an object – maybe I’d think differently. If I didn’t have a budget, then maybe shopping wouldn’t be so distasteful to me. But I know my heart pretty well, and its really not about money or the lack of it. My kids are used to what they consider “slim” Christmases, which I consider not slim but certainly not excessive. We’ve never gone overboard with gifts, which goes back to that whole money thing. It makes me happy that when I ask my boys what they want for Christmas, they don’t have a long list of stuff. In fact, one of my kids cannot come up with more than one thing he wants. There are a few things they need, which they will get, but it will be slim, again. There probably will not be a gift under our tree with my name on it. The things I want more than anything are things I need, and no one can give me these things. I need rest. I need peace. I’m not being hokey. There is not one single product that anyone could buy that I want. Not buying anything for me – now that does make me happy.
This has been a crazy, stressful year for my family. Health issues, job issues, kid issues, on and on. The last thing I want is to spend December trying to figure out how to pay for a lot of “wants” and then fighting the crowds to shop for those wants. Nothing crushes my Christmas spirit more than the dreaded mall – or Super Center.
A lot of blogs post Christmas gift guides, with the coolest gift ideas. I love reading those, especially the ones with homemade gifts. I even posted a gift guide last year. But I’ll be honest, I’m not a shopper, so for me to come up with a gift guide is a stretch. And this year, more than any year before, I’m not in the mood for those kinds of guides. I’m going to be contrary and offer you a different kind of guide. This is my guide, a guide of things I love doing during December. Most of them cannot be bought, either online or in stores 
- Now that my kids are older, letting them get out the Christmas decorations and decorate as they want – even if their decorating would make Martha Stewart cringe.
- Seeing my son get excited about doing his annual Christmas “job” , which is making covered pretzels.
- Watching our favorite holiday movies as a family. Elf, A Christmas Story, Its a Wonderful Life, and of course, Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer
- Driving around looking at the lights
- Going to midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. That was the boys’ idea last year, and we all loved it. There’s just something magical about midnight on Christmas Eve.
- The fact that my sons still want to leave milk and cookies out on Christmas Eve, even though they know.
There’s my guide. No gifts. But plenty to warm your heart and help you get in the proper holiday spirit.
My oldest son was recently given some money by his grandfather. Not much, just $5. But that was $5 more than he had. He went to the mall with his $5 bill. And gave it to the bell ringer outside the mall. Bless that child. Maybe the true spirit of Christmas, the spirit I love and crave, has found its way through the consumerism after all.
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Oct
13
Why is it that many days I still feel like the goofy junior kid with braces and glasses, tripping over my own feet? Maybe because I am that kid, at least in my mind, and I project that persona to everyone else. How do I get out of that rut?
My husband and youngest son are overflowing with self confidence. They have no doubts about their abilities and are not concerned at all if someone doesn’t like them or how they do things. I am so glad that at least one of my kids has that inborn self confidence. My other son, not so much. He’s like me, and we were born doubting ourselves and looking to others for affirmation that we are worthy. Or not. And that is a sucky way to live.
Many of my personality quirks drive my husband crazy, but the self confidence issue is a big one, because its so contrary to his nature. He doesn’t understand it. At times, he’s gotten downright angry over it, and rightfully so. What really makes him mad is that I don’t just lack self confidence, I have a tendency to want to make sure everyone around me knows that there is a good chance I will fail at anything I try to do. I downplay or don’t mention any accomplishments or successes, either mine or my kids.
For years I told myself, and him, that I just never want people to think I’m bragging. Which is fine and good, but at some point, if you never tell people about the great things your kids are doing, your kids will stop thinking that anything they do is great. I tend to go too far in that direction. So no one will ever accuse me of bragging, but they also won’t realize that my kids are astonishingly smart and creative guys (like all children, yes). I will not hesitate to tell anyone about a bad grade my kid got, but you’ll never hear about how well he did when he took the practice ACT in the seventh grade. In fact, you’ll never know he took it, because mama won’t mention that. That’s not fair to my kids, and I am trying to get better about acknowledging their achievements, because I am very proud of them and never ever want them to think I’m not.
If I downplay my kids gifts, I bury my own. No one that I know in real life knows about this blog. No one, not even my mom. Weird, right? No one besides my husband knows that I am rocking graduate school (omg, did I just write that obnoxious sentence, what a bragger). I knew I would, I love school and was so ready to go back. Is it wrong to say outloud -I am doing good at school? Very few people know I am in school at all, and many people would probably be surprised that I’m in grad school because they never knew I went to college. I rarely talk about my life.
I’m breaking all kinds of personal rules here today, by talking about my issues and my achievements. I keep so many things to myself, I actually had a friend get upset with me once because I didn’t tell her something that was going on in my life. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret, I just avoid talking about me. She rightfully was hurt, because as she said, she tells me everything. I tell very little; I’m a great listener and a naturally quiet person, but there comes a point when that is not an acceptable excuse.
Lately my lack of self esteem has been the root of some discussions – not arguments, just discussions with my husband again. I recently lost quite a bit of weight. Well, not recently, because its been a long process, but its finally enough that its noticeable. I am thrilled to no end about this, for obvious reasons but also because I was starting to feel 60 instead of my young age of 40. My husband is thrilled and my kids have noticed and commented. But no one else has noticed, or if they have, no one has said anything. I don’t want compliments, with my esteem issues that would send me into hiding, but you would think someone would notice. Especially those relatives who always manage to notice and comment on any weight gain. But nothing.
My husband explained to me that no one will notice because while I have lost the weight, I have not made any changes in how I dress. I was forced to buy smaller pants, because mine were literally falling off. For years my wardrobe has consisted of baggy sweatshirts, baggy sweaters, baggy t-shirts. Key word, baggy – the bigger the better. And I’m still wearing those same clothes, not because they look good, not because they fit, but because its what I’ve done for years and its what I am comfortable with. I’m not a psychologist, but I think this is a key point - I am very comfortable with not being noticed, in fact, I try to avoid being noticed. Yet I wonder why no one notices I’m smaller??
I really need to work on this. I annoy myself with it, because at 40, its time to stand up and be proud of myself. Instead I am the queen of deprecating remarks. If someone mentions grad school, I laugh and say something about how lucky I’ll be to make it through. If someone says something nice about my kids, I’ll be sure to point out some of their bad behavior. If someone says I look nice (gasp), I’ll point out my gray hairs. I refuse to just accept compliments with a simple thank you. It’s almost like I want to convince whoever gave me the compliment that they are mistaken, I’ve done nothing good at all. What is it with me?
I don’t know the answer to any of this, because its how I’ve been all my life. I want better for my sons, and even though my oldest is very much like me, he has enough of his dad in him that he is not as bad as I am. And my younger son has confidence to spare. If I could just take some of his.
Everyone is making “life lists”, things they want to accomplish in their lifetime. Honestly, sometimes I have trouble seeing past this week, but I do know that I would like to have some self esteem, some self pride, and not always downplay the things I am good at. Does anyone else have this same issue? How do I get better?
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Oct
6
I have mentioned here before that I avoid going to the doctor. Not for any specific reason, I have never had a bad experience or anything like that. Just the usual no time, no money, no time type of reasons excuses. With two kids and 40 years of experience, I am pretty good at knowing when my kids need to see a doctor or if its “just a cold”. I refuse to use that intuition for my own health though, and most of the time I have waited to go to the doctor, it has been for something that absolutely needed a doctor visit.
A couple years ago I started getting odd sores on my body. I ignored them, but my husband noticed and freaked out. A few days after he first saw it, he came in my office and said there was a news show about MRSA and the picture they showed looked like what was on my leg. Pshh. But when the sore didn’t heal and more showed up, I grudgingly went to the doctor. Yep, MRSA. Antiobiotics and done, except for the one that had gone from sore to major infection and needed what felt like minor surgery to improve. If I see those sores again, I don’t wait, I call my doctor.
For about the past year, I have been SUFFERING every month, which I know many women do, but its worse than it has ever been. I walk bent over for 4 days out of the month. I can’t leave the house because what used to take 6 days is now crammed into 3, and I learned the hard way that accidents happen, even to a 40 year old woman who should be a pro at this. So in other words, not fun.
In all my wisdom, I put off seeing my doctor, chalking it up to being 40 and my body getting older. My friends and mom got tired of telling me it wasn’t normal, but I kept putting it off. I can’t even tell you why, there is just no reason.
What finally pushed me into making the doctor appointment is that along with all the pain, my periods starting coming closer together. I could no longer predict within a day or two when it would happen, and instead of every 4 weeks, we went to every 3 weeks. At that point, I made the doctor appointment.
Easy fix, I got some major pain pills and some other medication, and this week has been so much better. I have to go back for an ultrasound tomorrow, just to make sure there isn’t some other underlying problem, and since I’ll be at the hospital for that, I’ll have a mammogram too.
My point isn’t to share my intimate health problems with the internet, but to demonstrate how silly stupid it was of me to wait to see my doctor. Months of misery, for nothing. I’m sure that in the dark recesses of my mind, I was afraid of the doctor finding something seriously wrong. But using that as a reason to put off going to the doctor is warped logic.
I was terrified when I had my first mammogram last year. Terrified of the excruciating pain I was sure I would have. It was nothing, very easy and no pain at all. And the relief when its done, that is huge.
So just do it. Whatever health issues have been bothering you, call your doctor. Have that mammogram. And if you don’t have insurance or if you aren’t 40 and your insurance won’t cover it yet, but you feel like you want one, call you doctor anyway. One of our local radio stations is taking donations so that they can donate free mammograms for women without insurance, and that’s just one example. Do whatever you need to do to take care of yourself. It really is the least selfish thing you can do, because a lot of people need us to be healthy.
If there are any guys reading this, encourage your wife/girlfriend/sister/mom/friend to take care of themself and get that mammogram and yearly exam. Sometimes we can be a little stubborn and might need that little push, but we’re worth it Women too, encourage everyone you know to just get it done.
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Sep
30
Deep sigh. If I had written this a few hours ago, it would have had a completely different title and tone. It really is good to let things calm down before venting out loud.
It was a horrible no good very bad morning, and most of that was my fault. I’m rightfully aggravated with my kids, and the aggravation has been building for a few days. I’m not even going to go into why I’m aggravated, because if you think about it, you might say that someone let the situation get out of hand. I already know that though. I’ve told them multiple times why I’m aggravated, but then instead of insisting that certain behavior stop, I let it continue. There, I said the most painful thing. I let it continue.
I was hoping they would do the right thing without me being the enforcer. They didn’t, so my aggravation kind of exploded this morning into anger.
I absolutely hate starting their day that way. Ever since they were little, I always made sure the mornings were calm, so they could start their day calm. There would have been a calm way for me to handle things this morning, but I blew it.
I continued with my self righteous anger for a few hours, snapping at my husband when he asked me what happened and wallowing in self pity. Then I woke up. And felt absolutely horrible.
I immediately called my husband and apologized. If my kids were younger, I would have shown up at their school for lunch. At their ages, that would only make it worse, so I’m waiting til they get home to apologize for my outburst.
I’m not minimizing their part in it, but I have to take ownership of my part too. Am I the only one that does things like this? Go ahead, lie to make me feel better be honest.
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Sep
16
If you see my son, he will hold the door open for you. If you drop something, he will bend down and pick it up for you. He’s helpful that way.
If you see my son, he’ll shake your hand and say Nice to meet you. He’ll look you in the eye and answer your questions. He’ll make small talk and laugh at your jokes, even if they are lame. I know this because he laughs at mine.
If you see my son, he’ll say please and thank you.
If you see my son, your kids will like him. The under five year old set adores him, because he’s young enough to act goofy with them and old enough to be endlessly patient. He’s a great babysitter.
If you see my son and need help, go ahead and ask. He likes to help as long as it doesn’t involve cleaning his bedroom.
If you see my son, you might be surprised at how articulate and pleasant he is. We don’t always see that side of him at home, but he is.
Oh, one more thing.
If you see my son, he’ll be the one with the longish, shaggy hair that partially covers his eyes. It’s dyed black. He’ll probably be wearing these big goofy black rimmed glasses. Not because he needs glasses, but because he thinks they look funky. And they go well with his skinny jeans, which he wears a lot. He might be dressed in all black or dark clothes, depending on his fashion mood that morning. He might be wearing wrist bands, not because he cuts, but because he thinks they look funky.
What will you do if you see my son?
I hope you won’t roll your eyes, or give me a sympathetic look because clearly he must be an out of control delinquent. Don’t scowl at him or move to the other side of the aisle. Don’t assume anything about him.
If you see my son, look past the hair and clothes. Toss out any initial judgment you might want to make based on his appearance, and give him a chance. Don’t miss an opportunity to meet a really great kid.
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Aug
7
I saw my doctor yesterday about my adhd and the problems I’ve been having. The doctor visit itself is a saga, which I feel compelled to share because it took up so much of my day, there was no time for anything else to happen. I need to first admit that I haven’t seen a doctor in almost two years, because I rarely do anyway and when my beloved primary care doctor moved away, I just haven’t really needed to go – ok, didn’t think I needed to go, which was clearly wrong.
Anyway, I was seeing a new doctor. I arrived five minutes before my appointment, which was at 2:45. I waited 30 minutes, entertained by a rather energetic child in the waiting room. It’s always fun to watch when it’s not your own. But after 30 minutes I stood up, because the sign says “if you’ve been waiting more than 20 minutes past your appointment time, see the receptionist”. And I had noticed that the people in the waiting room had not moved, so no one had been called back.
I started up to the front but then a nurse called my name. But the way she said my name was not a “time to go see the doctor” way. It was a bad news kind of way. She said they had a meeting that ran long and the doctor was running late. I said, well, it’s already been thirty minutes, how much longer? There were still three people in front of me! So we’re talking another hour, and then the wait in the actual exam room begins.
I hate to admit this, but because I’ve been such a wreck lately and because I really wanted to see the doctor but knew I couldn’t stay there another hour, I got pretty upset. As in, I felt the tears coming. I talked to the receptionist, explained that I had kids waiting that had to be picked up at a certain time and I could not wait for the doctor. Could anyone else please see me.
She found an opening with another doctor, but there were still two patients in front of me, which I didn’t think would be much better than the other doctor with three in front of me. The receptionist leaned in and quietly said, the doctor your original appointment is with is a little slow. This other doctor is not nearly that slow, and you’ll be in quickly.
Ok. If you say so. They changed my appointment to the new doctor, and I went back to wait. I was pretty agitated by that point, which only aggravates my ADHD issues. I was mainly worried that I would wait all that time for the doctor to say he couldn’t help me anyway and I’d have to wait for my psych appointment in a month.
But the receptionist was right, this doctor was quick. I was called back within five minutes! The funny thing is, I vaguely knew the nurse that took me back. A mom of a cub scout. Not close friends but we recognized each other right away. By then, I was a bit of a mess (UNDERSTATEMENT), but she started asking about my son so that helped. That’s the thing about private people, like me. I prefer NOT to know the people taking my medical history and weighing me. Oh well.
And then the doctor. I prefer women doctors. I know that’s archaic. But I do, older women doctors. By older, I mean at least as old as me. My new doctor is a young, attractive male. The opposite of what I would pick if I’m going through the list and choosing. It’s not that I have anything against young, attractive people. It’s just that I’m not one of them, and I am normally more comfortable with someone more like me. It’s purely an eccentricity of mine. Anyway.
So I’m finally in the office. The nurse, who I know, tells me my blood pressure is a little high. I explain that I’m a little agitated, because by then I’ve been waiting an hour. She understood completely, and told me I’d really like this doctor. Lord, I hope so. By that point, I was at my wits end.
Finally, here comes my new (cute) doctor. You have to just picture this in your mind though. When he walks in, he sees me sitting on the exam table. My legs are swinging at a pretty fast pace, back and forth. My hands are tightly linked together, thumbs twiddling at a furious speed, and kind of bouncing up and down. He calmly introduces himself, looks at my chart and asks what seems to be the problem. I blurt out everything that’s been going on, including my childhood history and current events. I know that I’m talking at breakneck speed but I can’t help it. I know that as I talk that fast, my legs are swinging even faster and my thumbs are fidgeting even faster. I can’t help it.
I told him everything, then said I didn’t think he could help me but thought I’d ask. I finally paused to take a breath and my new doctor, aka best friend said, Of Course I Can Help You. Magical words. But if you had seen me, I think it would’ve been clear that I needed help.
He said since I had been previously diagnosed and it clearly was a problem, he didn’t think I’d need to see anyone else. I could’ve hugged the man. We talked for awhile about kinds of medication and figuring out what works best. He did prescribe something but said it could take awhile to find the best thing for me. I’m ok with that. I just really need to know that better days are coming.
That was my afternoon. It was a success, and after I got past my unfounded preference for women doctors, I realized I really like my new (young and cute) doctor. Not just because he helped me. But I heard it straight from the receptionist that he is quick, and he proved that he is. That’s very important, I don’t want to spend hours in the waiting room. He was very nice and not at all intimidating. So I got a new doctor out of the day. And some medication.
I have a (very) preliminary report on the meds, but I’ll save it for another post. Reliving the doctors visit has worn.me.out.
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Aug
6
I’m a pretty private person. None of my in-real-life friends know about this blog, for instance. Not that I’m ashamed of it, but I am hyper critical of myself and am afraid people would be like, who does she think she is, writing on the internet! There are a lot of things I just keep to myself. Well, that ends right now!
I’ve been having some issues lately. I’ve always had issues but lately it’s gotten out of control, and I finally decided it was time to do something about it. Here’s my story.
My mom likes to tell me (and anyone who will listen) about what a difficult child I was, hard to manage and HYPER. She has told me that the pediatrician gave me the official HYPER diagnosis and prescribed coffee. Until I had friends with kids, I didn’t believe her about the doctor or the coffee. It didn’t make sense to me that they would give coffee to a hyperactive child. But if it made her feel better, keep telling it like that.
Now I know better, because I have friends with kids, so I’ve learned a lot about ADD/ADHD and medication for it. I still never once thought it was relevant for ME. I thought my problem was more anxiety, or as my parents also described me, just high-strung. I mean come on, I’m 40 years old, I can’t have ADHD. Right?
Fast forward to the past few months. Life has been getting a little difficult for me. My latest job requires me to sit at the computer and complete tasks. Not hard, right? For me, next to impossible. A couple weeks ago, I had to take a test for work. It was not hard and they gave me a week to complete it. For most people, two days of working on it a few hours a day would be plenty. It took me the entire week. I was down to the wire, and terrified I wouldn’t finish. Finishing and passing were a requirement for the job. I wasn’t worried about passing, but I nearly had a breakdown over getting it done. I was in tears several times, I was up almost all night for several nights, and the most frustrating part was I didn’t know why I was having such a hard time.
I did finish and pass. Then I get my new job assignment, which is more of the same type of repetitive tasks. Not hard, but sitting still and focusing is a necessary part of this job. My brain has been hurting ever since.
I finally got a clue and talked to my mom and husband, and did some online research. It turns out (this is mind blowing so wait for it) that the problems I was having along with the fact that I cannot sit still, my husband has to hold my hands still to keep me from fidgeting, I have huge problems with organization and focusing, are all symptoms of ADHD! I’m being sarcastic here, because why, as a somewhat intelligent adult, why didn’t I talk to someone about this sooner, or research it sooner? My husband and kids all said they knew it was a problem, but they’re used to me and tolerate it.
I’m perfectly content to go through life fidgeting and jumpy, but now that it’s affecting my job, I realize it has been a problem for a long time, not just recently. I just really thought it was part of my personality and all the issues that go along with being me, and there was no help for it. This explains why my four weeks of grad school earlier this summer were so hard for me. Not hard work, but hard for me to finish. It also explains why I had to ignore my blog and pretty much everything else during that time, just to get it done.
You can’t imagine the relief I’ve felt since I realized that it doesn’t have to be this way. I have been so worried about my job and about going back to school in two weeks. I knew that if I was having this much trouble with the job, adding school in the mix would not help. I’ve been pulling my hair out trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, why can’t I just do this. Finally I know.
I have done a lot of online research about this, and I’ve actually gotten very helpful information from my mom about my history with this. This has always been a problem for me, but when I was growing up, it wasn’t common to be treated for it. It was common, or at least for the people in my parents generation, to chalk it up to a bratty kid. Thankfully, my mom stuck with the high strung label.
I wasn’t sure where to start, but from my reading I figured I would need to see a psychologist or psychiatrist to get an official diagnosis before anything else could be done. I called every doctor on my insurance list and for every single one of them, the first appointment is in September. I made an appointment, but since by September I may just really pull all my hair out, I made an appointment with my primary care doctor. I see him today, and we’ll see where I go from here.
It has to be better than where I’ve been.
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Jul
31
Earlier today I needed to run some errands and my kids needed lunch, so they came with me with the promise of drive through food. I won’t even tell you how long it took my kids to decide where they wanted to eat. They rarely get fast food so it’s a big production. They finally decided on Taco Bueno, which I haven’t had in years.
We go through the line and get the food then head home. I realized when we got home that they didn’t send all of the order – don’t you just hate that! We went back to get the rest of our food – I was going to go myself but apparently my children missed me so much while they were gone that they cannot stand to be away from me, so they came along. Really. I’m sure that’s why.
Between home and the drive through my oldest decided he needed more food, growing teenager and all that. I intended on explaining the missing food and ordering the extra food. Which should have been very simple. Except for my sudden transportation back to goofy adolescent.
I tried to say the word Muchacho but could not spit it out. Couldn’t do it. And that cracked me up so much that I dissolved in a fit of laughter that reminded me of junior high sleepovers. You know how you get to laughing so hard and you can’t pull yourself together? That was me. And I was mortified, because the nice lady was waiting for me to speak coherently. I tried to motion to my son to say it for me but he got to laughing so hard that he spit pop out his nose, so he was worthless. My older son was sitting in the back, pretending he did not know me.
It was at least a full minute before I could compose myself, which doesn’t sound like long but it is FOREVER when you’re laughing uncontrollably and someone, a mature adult, is waiting on you to knock it off. I was so embarrassed.
Finally I was able to speak somewhat normally and explained my situation. Although that word, muchacho, tripped me up again and I started laughing, but I got it out. After I pulled my car away from the speaker my oldest son said that she probably thought I was a teenager pulling a prank, and I’m sure he was right.
All I know is that I will never attempt to order a muchacho again. I can’t risk falling apart like that again.
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