Today was a Monday after an insane weekend. In. Sane.
Friday evening started the weekend with a bang when a friend who was babysitting our kids needed to leave early because of her little girl’s fever. And vomit. Nothing like coming home to vomit on a Friday night, huh? We were worried for our little friend and I fought the knot that forms in every mama’s gut when she braces herself for the possible onslaught of contagious illness. I worried too much. Anyway, during the night our little friend’s fever kept going up and by Saturday she was admitted to the hospital with nothing contagious it turns out, but no less scary.
Saturday started with a long awaited haircut to which I dragged my babysitterless boys. I threatened and promised punishment and reward for their good behavior at the salon. They were good. Exceptionally so, actually. Still a mama can’t really relax when she knows what danger lurks nearby, what thin ice she’s on when she brings young boys to fancy salons and expects them to be quiet, not fight, and not break anything. When paying the going rate these days for a trendy cut and color, I frankly was sad not to get to relax and fully enjoy the salon experience. Still, I was desperate for a haircut and completely without a sitter so I pressed on and got it done, grabbing an extra kid (our little sick friend’s brother) on the way home. Into the rest of Saturday I some how crammed voting, steak dinner at our house with friends, and dropping off and picking up my daughter from a party at City Park, along with dropping off a jacket to my friend at the hospital. (Think multiple trips from one end of New Orleans to the other, honey.)
Sunday morning was a trip to my friend’s house to feed and potty her dogs, then to WinnDixie for coffee (how do I let myself run out of that?) and other stuff needed. Then house church, then cooking and trying to make the house halfway ready for Mackenzie’s SEVENTEENTH birthday party. (Breakdown is scheduled for later over the fact that my girl is SEVENTEEN.)
You know what else I got at Winn Dixie? Her cake. (I type this with red-faced shame.) I got my culinary school student, pastry professional daughter a Winn Dixie cake for her birthday. Ugh, I so wanted her to have something wonderful and special but time and life ran away from me and she got a grocery store premade, picked up on the morning of her birthday. The kind they keep in the case for losers who don’t order their cakes ahead of time. (I’ll be sure to mention that in my mother of the year award acceptance speech… he he.)
We partied, did dog duty again, hospital again and fell in bed Sunday exhausted. Monday dawned and I felt yucky, didn’t go exercise, ran into every imaginable obstacle getting my extra kid to school and getting myself to work. There was dog poop involved and well… I can’t do dog poop. I have a thing. Anyway, by the time I got to work, I was overdue for a good cry. Way overdue. No big deal you might think, but I’ve written before about how we really count on our weekends for rest and recharge. I’ve let myself get away from such frantically paced weekends. I’ve not been training for the marathon of crazy that was this weekend. I felt overwhelmed. Completely overwhelmed. So much joy and worry and laughter and huge milestones and frustrations and blessing all in such a short time.
The day wore on and, being Monday, didn’t go easy on me but brought its usual challenges at work. Then… it happened.
Somebody offered me a bite of pig lip. Seriously. As pretty as you please, someone walked up to me, held out the pig lip and said as they chewed enthusiastically “You want a bite of my pig lips?”
And with that wonderfully weird statement, my heart let go of the worries and gave in to the fun. The tension was broken with an absurd statement that set me free to embrace the totally bizarre and just GO WITH IT.
I know what you’re wondering and no. I didn’t accept the offer of the pig lip. But I DID get the blessing of a wacky moment that ushered humor and laughter and silliness into my day.
Those pig lips were my breakthrough. (Can I get a witness?)
All the way home I giggled about the pig lips and realized all over again that I’ve got to laugh. I’ve got to embrace joy. I’ve got to refuse to get so bogged down in the dailies that I miss the funny, wonderful, wild, random moments that bring comic relief to life.
It was a reminder I needed today. Also how many times in life does a girl get to write about pig lips??? Seizing the day, my friends!by