I have the best neighbor.
You’re probably thinking, That’s not possible…I have the best neighbor!
Well, friends. You’re wrong. I live in Mayberry. Well, not really, but kind of. I wrote a personal essay on it. Maybe I’ll share it one day. That feels super scary and I’m sweating just thinking about it.
Back to my awesome neighbor.
This is how we text:
It’s pretty much the highlight of our days when we text in gifs.
I like to craft.
I don’t feel that I’m particularly good at it, but I enjoy the process.
I wanted to try embroidery. I didn’t want to spend a lot of money so I pulled some leftover fabric out of my bin and traced a granny square crochet pattern on it.
Crochet is my craft drug of choice.
It took me over a year to complete it. I did a little here, a lot there, sat it in a box for several months, and finally finished it.
It’s wonky, but I really love it.
I pick up lunch shifts at a local BBQ restaurant on the months I don’t take care of my grandma. I had a particularly good tip day, and still buzzed from my ‘fun mom’ of the day before, decided to celebrate.
My boys were excited about going to get Snoopy’s hot dogs and Goodberry’s custard. Until we passed their school on the way out of the neighborhood.
What are all those cars at school? I think it’s Science night tonight.
What’s Science night? I don’t know. The email just said it was Science night.
I spent the next 15 minutes negotiating with my 6 year old on how to eat and make Science night on time.
He wanted to skip eating to go to science night.
He wanted to postpone getting ice cream til after Science night was over.
We finally settled on staying focused on eating, no extra playing around, and making it to Science night a little bit late.
My older son is sitting in the backseat, head propped in his head on the door with a total “whatever man” preteen attitude.
In the grind of being a single mom, I often feel as though I am always saying no.
Can we go to Marbles? Not on a school night.
Can we play sports? I don’t have the money.
Then there is the constant reminding (nagging?) for them to clean up, clean up, clean up.
Keep your hands to yourself.
I feel like the biggest killjoy.
So, I took $50 out of savings and we went to go see Lego Batman on a weekday afternoon. We bought popcorn and drinks and had the entire theatre to ourselves.
They had so much fun. Their good news of the day was getting to see a movie, according to my oldest, and for my youngest, it was getting a giant tub of popcorn.
I finally felt like Fun Mom.
Anxiety always hits the worse at night, and I’m wanting to fall asleep.
I close my eyes. Nestle my head into my pillow. Breath in deep, and settle under my covers.
Then I notice that my heart rate is starting to creep up. The thumping gets louder in my chest. I start to wonder what there is going on for me to feel anxious about and come up blank.
My hearts pounds. I don’t understand!
My hearts pounds. What is going on?!
My heart pounds. I guess I won’t be falling asleep.
This has been the routine whenever an anxiety attack comes on. Since I was 18 or 19 years old. Sometimes I can identify what has me worked up but usually not.
One night, around 3am, I decided to try music. No lyrics because I would be tempted to stay up and sing along.
I scrolled through the different classical stations. I tried classical strings, Renaissance and a few others. None of them soothed me. In fact, I felt more agitated!
Then I tried Baroque. Mostly because of the joke Cogsworth makes in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast: “If it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it.”
I was out like a light within 15 minutes.
Midday nap-out in 15 minutes.
I wake up early and refreshed in the mornings. I’m not sure what it is about the music, but it completely calms me.
Except when the Pandora ads wake me up.