Meltdown

Okay. It’s been a week to remember. That’s about the best thing I can say. I think the quality of this week is best illustrated by the fact that I just suffered a class one meltdown over a shoebox. Yes, a cardboard box that shoes come in. Well, this box held a pair of pleather boots, but you get the concept.

Here’s the deal: my daughter had surgery this week (tonsils and adenoids), nothing serious, but surgery still. I’ve been in my house since Tuesday midday with no immediate prospects for leaving. While I have had visitors, I have not had a true interaction with the outside world. In the midst of this, I have been helping remotely with the Mother’s Day plant sale at my son’s school (which I volunteered to co-chair BEFORE I scheduled my daughter’s surgery), I have been waiting on my daughter, reminding her every 10 minutes to take a drink, watching her fever as it ebbs and flows, doing puzzles, art projects and trying to keep the house up. I’m losing on most fronts.

Last night I carefully labeled a shoe box on all four sides with my son’s name and his grade and teacher’s name. I set the box on the counter and reminded him no less than 10 times this morning that he needed to take the box so he could bring home the plants he buys today. I was distracted as he left and so when he ran out without his shoebox, I didn’t notice. And then about 8 minutes after he left I saw it there. On the counter. I blurted, “OH E!” (that’s what I call him) I ran out the door, knowing full well that he was gone. I picked up the phone and called my neighbor. I know she’s volunteering today and thought she could bring the box with her for my son. “I’m not going up there until 2 pm, I think that might be late for him,” “Yes, he’s going at 1:30. Hmmm, I guess I could drive up to the school and drop it off.” “Oh Lisa, that’s silly, they always have LOTS of extra boxes, they’ll give him one!” “Yeah, but I wrote his name on this one.” Really? Really?? Did I really and truly have SO much invested in this stupid shoebox? “Lisa, don’t drag the little one out, I'm going out later, I’ll pick it up and bring it by the school for you.” “You will? Thank you so so so much!!” I am trying to imagine my friend and neighbor looking at her phone wondering how badly her friend and neighbor had cracked.

After this very emotional exchange over a shoebox (A SHOEBOX!!!) I got my daily call from the surgeon’s office to check on my daughter’s progress. I was told that beginning sometime this weekend (I’ll know when because my daughter will become really cranky…WINNING!) I will need to wake up periodically during the night to make my daughter drink. I am starting to feel like one of the detainees at Gitmo. I’m waiting for the waterboarding to start. Sleep deprivation part deux.

I know it’s all going to be OK because my friend, who understands my overwhelming obsession with the shoebox, picked it up a short time ago and delivered it to school for me. Whew.