Going to a wedding reception used to be a simple affair…before I became a parent.
It was typically a celebratory event and even though there were times I wasn’t sold on whether the couple was going to be together til death did them part, I was happy to partake in free food, booze and live band or deejay.
There was merriment to be had, and I can’t remember ever not being up for one of these gigs. Yes, I used to be a fun person.
Gil and I are going to a reception on Sunday. It’s from 2-5 with a champagne toast at 3.
Nothing about this feels simple.
It’s in Atlanta, where we lived for years and where most of our family still resides.
Gil and I aren’t big Atlanta fans. We tolerated it before the kids came along and visited three to four times a year. It was as fine as it could be, but we had and have zero interest in ever living there again.
The traffic alone is enough to make you want to explode. It’s just not our happy place. The last time we were there was back in November for Thanksgiving.
Still, we absolutely adore the happy couple and want to be there to celebrate them.
I was looking forward to this event until this week happened.
I am still having what one might refer to as Post Traumatic Stress brought about by Hurricane Matthew. It sounds dramatic, but since the worst hurricane in decades tore through Coastal Georgia and South Carolina back in October, bad weather or even the slight possibility of it makes me extremely anxious.
Well…we had a tornado blow through this week.
I feel very blessed and grateful that we are safe and suffered no damage to our home and property, but a hundred meters down the road is a completely different story. My poor neighbors were hit big time. Trees on top of roofs and vehicles. Canopies and various yard ornaments wrapped around trees. It was a mess. It was scary and I feel re-traumatized every time I have to leave my house and drive by the wreckage. It looks like our entire neighborhood looked post-Hurricane Matthew, except it’s only a block of maybe eight to ten homes.
There were no injuries or fatalities and we had adequate warning, but there is no doubt that these neighbors will be resetting most of the summer, if not longer.
I was handling the situation relatively well. I did what I do and handled it in the moment.
Gil was at work, so I got our yard and house locked down and the kids and animals and I all hunkered down in the bathroom. The bad tornado came Tuesday afternoon around 5pm. Then later that night after Gil was home and the kids were in bed, another batch of storms plowed through.
We’re fine; I’m thankful. Truly I am. At the same time, stormy weather is a lot of extra work. Our house gets messy when it rains, and it’s been raining all flipping week. Yesterday was better and today is sunny, but now I have to pack and because of all the extra towels and blankets…I have more laundry than usual.
And…we have a broken dryer. I discovered this loveliness after the storm Tuesday evening when I transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer.
And in case you happen to be on the hunt for a gas-powered dryer in Savannah, GA…don’t bother. There are none readily available evidently. They must be ordered and shipped.
As we were trekking all over town yesterday evening, I thought I was gonna blow if I heard these words one more time:
“We can ship it and have it to you no later than next Friday.”
NO THAT WON’T WORK! MY HOUSE SMELLS LIKE BOY AND WET DOG AND THIS DUDE (Gil) HAS BEEN WEARING THE SAME UNDERSHIRT FOR THREE DAYS. I NEED A FUCKING DRYER RIGHT NOW.
Obviously I did not say that, but really, I need a damn dryer.
I was okay yesterday and figured I could hang stuff and maybe hit up a neighbor for a load or two or take it to a laundromat (I honestly LOVE laundromats – strange but true), but I don’t have a lot of extra time for all that at the moment. Plus Gil has been in a rotten mood for the past month (he always gets like this when summer rolls around because he works in an industry that is painfully busy during the summer) and he lost his mind somewhere around store number three and announced that we could just get one in Atlanta.
I can’t tell you how much I do not want to shop for dryers on my trip to celebrate my pals’ wedding.
For the damn love. Come on. Let’s deal and order one already. Geez.
But yesterday I was still positive and in a roll-with-it kind of mood.
That was then.
This morning I woke up to Piers asking if he could get up (they stayed up late & we have a rule that they have to stay in their rooms for a certain number of hours even if they’re not sleeping.) I was beyond irritated. Go the hell back to sleep, child.
Things went down from there. Gil wanted to discuss all the places we could shop for dryers in Atlanta. Please God make it stop.. I hate shopping and I really detest shopping for appliances.
Wallace got up with freaking impetigo under his nose, as he’s been snotty all week and this tends to happen, so I had to call the pediatrician and deal with that and she didn’t want to call in an oral prescription. Why? WHY? So now I have to pull the scab off and apply the ointment 3xs daily. This is absolutely as fun as it sounds…
Then I looked out my back window and happened to see that the table our neighbor set up in the backyard yesterday was not returned to its proper home and now paper that was on the table had blown all over the backyard.
While I was supervising Piers picking it all up, Wallace escorted said neighbor (who annoys the beejeezus out of me regularly anyway) into the living room to show him our new dryer rack after I specifically said we would be having ZERO company today.
And this, my friends, was my breaking point.
I lost my everloving shit. I apologize for all the profanity. It’s soothing me, so please try to overlook it. I know it makes me sound like I had poor hometraining and as my mother used to say, “Nice girls don’t cuss. It makes you sound like a prostitute.”
What in the actual fuck is all I really want to know? Who came up with that sack of horse manure?
Oh yeah…my mother.
I was doing so well – this first week of summer. I was handling life and eveything being thrown at me. I hate that I do this. I yelled at my kids. Sent them off to their rooms and am attemping to regroup, pack for this trip that now I really don’t want to go on.
Some days I REALLY miss the days when I was only responsible for myself. I know that sounds shitty and selfish and I wouldn’t trade my children for anything in this crazy world…but parenting and shuffling all the moving parts can be so exhausting.
Thank you for listening. And please know that I am painfully aware that this is a first-world rant of mammoth proportions. I need to get a handle on myself. There’s more (because isn’t there always?!), but I need to stop.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, I have zero interest in homeschooling at the moment.
AND, I want nothing more than to lock myself in a closet and zone out on my phone.
Just so ya know.
Cheers to Friday. I’m thinking of making this:
Thoughts? I’ll follow up and let you know my thoughts.
Onward and upward, friends. Have a lovely weekend!