Last you all heard I was anxiously anticipating doing cartwheels upon the conclusion of my daughter’s fifth grade graduation ceremony. Cartwheels and a few ecstatic back flips were executed flawlessly – all the Kleenex sent my way was not needed. And I bet you thought that in the end I would sit and blubber. Not a single tear was shed. They don’t count if they stay within the confines of the eyelids.
I am, however, utterly exhausted as I sit staring at an empty page due to be filled by a looming deadline. I’m highly paid for enduring such stress and performing under it. A lesser person would’ve crumbled by now. I, however, am only a little cracked.
It would be nice if my exhaustion stemmed solely from reckless abandon while celebrating finally moving on from elementary school, but tis not the case. My body is merely tired. My mental faculties: shut down as they’ve used up even the emergency reserves.
Every parent of school-aged children knows that as soon as TAKS testing is complete, the calendar is chock full of all sorts of special, fun events. (I heard a few of you snicker. Yes, I know, “fun” is relative.)
Since I have three thusly-aged children, my calendar runneth over and especially last week. I managed to make it to everything I committed to attend – even showed up with a pleasant demeanor and a smile on my haggard face. I use haggard because laced between those numerous events came the death of a family pet and my oldest was in a car accident.
The car accident was minor and no one was injured. While I can’t say the same for the cars involved, I’ll be eternally grateful for that. But the phone call alerting me to the occurrence took at least ten years off my life. I always wondered how I’d react to such a notification. I’m much calmer in real life than in my imagination.
The family pet: a hamster named Justin. He lived a long, full, happy hamster life and passed away inside what could only be described as a rodent’s Taj Mahal. He curled up inside his food bowl, crossed his cute little pink feet and went to sleep. Given his age, I knew the day was coming, but the timing couldn’t have been worse.
No matter, I dropped everything, helped a distraught child grieve and took care of the final arrangements. I don’t know which of us cried more.
Justin was by far the sweetest hamster we ever had. (I don’t allow just any rodent to sit on my shoulder.) I cried because I knew I was going to miss him chirping sweet nothings into my ear, but what was worse was seeing my child in such agony.
Upon reflection I realized that dealing with death and destruction on a small scale was a good experience for me and my kiddo. It’s guaranteed that life will throw much bigger losses our way. I suppose the little stresses I bemoan and like to blow out of proportion are good training, but it’s not expertise I look forward to using.
I’ll take that Kleenex for real now because in this end I am going to sit and blubber. And when I’m done: a few more ecstatic back flips because this week is over!
© 2010 Natalie Whatley