That’s really the only way to describe what I turned into on that
windy and rainy Halloween Night . . .
The entire evening was planned out.
Each hour accounted for on my trusty index card.
Salad made . . . beer and wine bought . . . candy ready . . . pumpkins lit . . . 11 year old mummy wrapped . . . trick or treat in our neighborhood . . . drop off 13 year old . . . dinner at our friends house . . . 11 year old meet up with friends . . . more trick or treating . . . come home . . . bed.
Yup, I got this.
Halloween Night was all set.
Scheduled, organized, and all wrapped up like a perfect mummy.
Until it began to unravel . . . and “mom from hell” emerged.
No one was to blame.
It just happened.
One thing after another . . . unraveling . . .
We were rushed {wrapping a mummy takes a hell of a lot longer than you may think!}
There was 13 year old drama {yup, even boys have drama}
Our doorbell kept ringing {duh, it was Halloween}
There was more 13 year old drama {he couldn’t make a decision to save his life}!
It was now past 5:30 {the time we were to meet our neighbors to trick or treat}.
My 13 year old was now crying.
My 11 year old couldn’t breathe because his mummy wrap was too damn tight.
And I began to yell.
Nowadays, yelling is rare for me {I am proud to say}.
But when I do start, it’s hard for me to stop . . .
So “mom from hell” just kept yelling.
My 13 year old yelled back and then kept crying.
My 11 year old attempted to stay quiet in the corner of our kitchen, while trying to catch his breath.
Our doorbell kept ringing.
I started to sweat.
My 13 year old got a stomachache.
I got a stomachache.
And I just kept on yelling . . .
I knew I needed to get myself under control.
I knew none of this was really a big deal.
I knew my boys were looking to me to calm down and make it all better.
But I couldn’t . . .
I was pissed!
I was pissed that our Halloween Night wasn’t going according to the plan I had written down on my trusty index card.
I was pissed that my 13 year old couldn’t make a decision, and pulled me into his business.
I was pissed that we were behind schedule and making other people wait for us.
I was pissed that it was taking this long to wrap a mummy.
I was pissed that my body was betraying me, and making me feel like crap.
Somehow . . .
We eventually got out the door.
We trick or treated with our neighbors.
My 13 year old finally made his decision.
My 11 year old was rewrapped {and this time pinned} for the third time.
The boys met up with their friends.
Candy was scored, sorted, and traded.
Wine was drunk {by me}.
And Halloween Night was saved!
The thing is, even though Halloween Night was saved . . .
I still felt like the “mom from hell.”
I was ashamed, embarrassed, and shocked that I let myself get so out of control.
On the other hand . . . my boys were totally over it.
They came home with flushed cheeks, full bags of candy, and “the good kind of” stomachaches.
. . . it was me who couldn’t get over it.
So at bedtime, when I crawled into bed with my 11 year old . . . still feeling like the “mom from hell” . . . I took a deep breath and apologized.
And you know what my wise 11 year old mummy had to say . . .
“Mom . . . don’t beat yourself up about it . . . it’s over . . . let it go.”
And you know what my 13 year old said when I apologized and cuddled with him . . .
“It happens to the best of us, Mom.”
True that.
So I got over it.
I let it go.
Shit happens.
Even to the best of us.
I truly stopped beating myself up about it . . . and that set me free.
What do you need to let go of . . . to set yourself free?