Yesterday, I felt a little off all day. It's not like my day didn't start out pleasantly, but I haven't been sleeping well (my wacko dreams, usually a source of amusement for me, are bugging me--waking me up) and I was just procrastinating all day.
To top it off, I was a wee bit cranky.
As the afternoon wore on, it got worse, and in addition to crankiness, I had melancholy come over too.
Even going down the crayon aisle in Target didn't cheer me up completely. I bought some new crayons, these twisty-slick ones that are smmmooooth to use (in my mood, I decided it would be best to stay away from any sharp objects).
Still cranky. Uneasy.
I picked up all the kids from school, and Nolan reminded me he had to stay late for his "Battle of the Books" and that he would walk home..."so you don't have to load them all up just to come for me."
On the way to aikido, it started to dawn on me what was possibly the reason I felt like the sky was falling.
It's that time of year, you see. The time of year when the parents-of-sixth-graders have to face the junior high music. One of the jr highs close to us was having an informational meeting, and I didn't want to go.
It's like Thug U when I drive by that school, and I don't really want him to go there.
Nolan wants to go there because he met the band teacher and he likes him.
I really don't want to think about this. But I have to. And Mr W, he's on my last nerve, because I want a hug, and he's offering suggestions re: "you should start the ball rolling and find out what we need to do so he winds up where you wanthim to" --why is this my deal? (*he does know it's his deal too, he just defers to my judgement because well, face it, ahem, I know best, lol)
So I'm driving along, and Duran Duran is on the radio, transporting me back to 16 as I drive the minivan full of children, and I smile, but my cheek hurts because I have a monster zit sprouting there, to match the one under my jaw.
I can't have a kid going to jr high if I still have the capacity to break out like this.
So I playfully shove Nolan's arm.
Hey, that felt good.
I do it again. "Mo-om, cut it out. What did I do?"
Oh, the list is long.
Shove. "Who do you think you are, going to jr high next year? I'm not old enough to have a child in jr high."
"Sorry." He grins. He is so looking forward to it. "I can't help it, sorry that I'm aging, Mom."
"Stop it. You're growing up. I'm aging."
I can feel the wrinkles furrowing and the gray hair sprouting now. Oh, man, was that something else deciding to give up the battle against gravity?
Admittedly, I'm being a baby about this. But, you know, he is my baby. And for whatever reason, I think I can handle the high school transition a little better. I mean, a high-school kid is a little better equipped to look out for himself than a smart-mouthed jr high kid.
I have to suck it up. I can do this. I smile at him and the others as they get out of the van.
"Precious"comes on the radio. The song whose first lines are something like "precious things need special handling..."
Ouch. What is that sudden tightness in my chest?
Bwahhahahahaha. Great, no Kleenex anywhere.
As I pull into our driveway (I had to pick up Mr W) I sneak past him inside to grab a Kleenex.
He's gonna make fun of me anyway.
He follows me in, 'what's the matter?' written all over his face.
I rant. He offers suggestions. No teasing.
I need a hug. Shut up.
I still felt bad, even after I was rescued by a phone call from one of my good friends; and I couldn't shake it, not until after class.
The boys got rambunctious, like they always do. Guess being good for an hour leaves a lot of energy to burn on the way to the car. The boys were doing some kind of fart maneuver, which was kind of amusing. Until one of them did it to me.
Oh, no he didn't.
I was tempted to call out to his Dad, but decided I could handle it on my own.
One headlock and a noogie later, and I was feeling much better. Laughter really is the best medicine.
But I'm still gonna need a hug.