…spending the day with 60 (give or take) first graders is like running a marathon with two hyenas strapped to your head, one screaming in each ear?
…suggesting to your first grade daughter that you “stop back by the bat place for a souvenir” on your way home from the field trip is a bad idea, a VERY BAD IDEA, indeed, because the ‘bat place’ is open by reservation only, which means they will be CLOSED when you get there, which means your first grade daughter, heretofore perfectly content just to have gone on the field trip, will now sob heaving, sobbing SOBS because she can’t get a souvenir she didn’t even know existed fifteen minutes ago?
…when you call your doctor (who is not actually a doctor, but a nurse practitioner) (and who has the bedside manner of a wet mop) to tell her that you can’t sleep since she increased the dosage on your antidepressants, and that the meds she prescribed to help you sleep actually KEPT YOU AWAKE, only dozing at intervals, and then dreaming that you couldn’t sleep, totally messing with your mind to the point where, at about 3:00 AM, you actually asked your husband whether or not you were dreaming, she will tell you to ‘cut it back to 150 mg’; and when you say, “Okay, but I was taking 300 mg, and then you increased it to 450…so do I cut back to the 300 or the 150?”, she will say, in utter disbelief, “You’re taking 450 mg?!?”
…as you tell your doctor (who is not actually a doctor, but a nurse practitioner) (and who has the bedside manner of a wet mop), through gritted teeth, “That’s. what. you. put. me. on.”, you will suddenly find yourself simultaneously wishing you could reach through the phone and pull your doctor’s (who is not actually a doctor, but a nurse practitioner) (and who has the bedside manner of a wet mop) head off, and thankful that you can’t do that, because, hello, the woman could literally have you committed?
…when your doctor (who is not actually a doctor, but a nurse practitioner) (and who has the bedside manner of a wet mop) adds another antidepressant to your current meds, and when that prescription says, “Side effects may include diarrhea,” what it really means is, “For your own safety, and the safety of those around you, do not get further than 15 feet from a bathroom”?
…how thankful you will be that that little ‘side effect’ didn’t kick in yesterday, in the middle of the field trip?
…when you’ve had headaches all your life, you actually become accustomed to them, and really only take notice when (a) you go more than a few days without a headache, because it’s such a rarity; or (b) the headaches become especially intense and/or last for days and days, with little or no relief?
…sitting in front of the computer screen can morph a throbbing, pounding headache into an icepicks-stabbing-you-in-the-eyeballs, mind-numbing, brain-frying, please-God-just-make-it-stop headache?
…listening to your toddler’s giggle is addictive, and you will do almost anything, up to and including standing on your head and singing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” to get another ‘hit’?
…watching your children playing and laughing together can make you so happy, so proud, so content in that moment, that you forget all the problems that are suffocating you, and – just in that one moment – breathe a little freer?
…a toddler’s hand stroking your hair can make your heart swell with love, until you think it just might burst under the pressure?
…when it’s bedtime, and you’re rocking him and singing his lullaby, and it’s just the two of you, and he’s stroking your hair, and you’re nuzzling his head while you sing, you will want to stay in that moment forever?