My name is Nicola and I am one Cranky bitch. I woke up this morning in that “mood”. I’ve been all chipper and full of sunshine for quite awhile so this morning kinda caught me off guard. I was incapable of saying “good morning” so instead of my usual bright smile and joy at being alive, my boyfriend got accusing comments and short answers. There was no radio on when the kids came downstairs and I was silently sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee….always a bad sign….so they knew.
The first thing that made me almost homicidal was the fact that the back door key is missing. Well not so much missing as in my Son took it the other day and left it in his Dad’s car when he picked him up. This of course means the back door is out of use. Not a big deal you might say, just use the front door instead. Well it’s a big deal when you have cats that refuse to use any other door except the back one. The three of them were lined up looking out the glass panels waiting to have their morning pee and breakfast. I filled their bowls and brought them out through the front door and around to the back. However, the cats were still inside staring out at me, with a “wtf is that crazy bitch doin”, look on their faces.
I went back around to the front and called them but got no reaction because now they were looking at their food that was sitting on the back step and they weren’t budging. Inside I went once more, and instructed them to go out the front door. Again, there was that “crazy bitch” look so I gave up and took the food back inside so they could eat it in the kitchen. By this time my hair is wet and I’m cold because it’s raining outside. Clearly all of this is my ex husbands fault for not noticing that the key in his car and returning it. Then I allowed my brain to go there. “I bet that prick saw it and is not returning it on purpose just to piss me off”. This is know in recovery rooms as “doing someone else’s thinking for them”, and bears no relevance to the actually truth; it’s just me just being an alkie!
Second almost homicidal inducing incident; “Mom where are my shoes”? These shoes are worn by the same child everyday and every day I get asked the same question. Usually my answer will be “on the shoe stand in the hallway”. Today however, this question almost sent me over the edge. I was standing at the sink, and as I turned slowly my son noticed I had “the look”. “The look” doesn’t need words to accompany it, “the look” packs enough power all on its own for my son to back away from the kitchen door and say “it’s ok, I’ll find em”. It’s true when it’s said that it’s the pebble in your shoe that will make you go back out and not the catastrophic life altering events. Right at that moment a swig out of a bottle of cheap wine sounded inviting.
I’m starting to think that God didn’t hear my prayers when I asked him this morning to help me out because I knew that even simple tasks were going to be troublesome, so I asked him again, Loudly. “God you need to help me out here, I’m liable to do damage to some random person today because I’m in super bitch mode. Please please stay close and don’t let me get arrested….Amen”.
And then there was the drive to school…..in the rain. Why is it that everyone is running late on a rainy morning? Rain means traffic cues, and crazy people doing car stunts that they would never imagine doing on a sunny day. And sure as there are fluffy clouds in heaven, there was a guy who decided to pull out in front of me in his big flashy BMW which apparently had no working indicators, so I had to slam on the breaks. Taking a deep breath and grinding my teeth, I continued on my way.
The kids were unusually quiet as they were fully aware that Mom was having one of those days. I so wanted to use the F word and the B word and any other rude word that begins with any letter possible. However, I managed to keep it together. After all I’m in recovery and we are supposed to have patience and tolerance right? In my head though, I was screaming SCREW PATIENCE AND TOLERANCE! It did occur to me at that moment that God must be close for me not to have released at least one expletive out of my mouth….Thanks God!
We were sitting in traffic not saying much; my temper was rising to fever pitch. “Hmm”, said my seven year old from the back of the car. “ I wonder if that girl is smoking pot”? “What”? I asked as I turned my head around to look at her. “Her there”, and she pointed out the window to a teenager who was definitely smoking something, “she looks like a pot smoker to me” Jess continued. Right then, My Son and I broke into righteous laughter, not quite believing what came out of my 7 year olds mouth.
And so we reached our destination having laughed out loud the rest of the way. Jess was very pleased with herself that she managed to dispel my bad mood by making me laugh and informed us that she is the bomb. I got kisses and hugs as they got out of the car to spend their day in school, knowing that they would be safe to come home to a mother that not only had lightened the hell up, but also would be sober just like she had been for the past 3 years and 9 months.
It’s little things like these that make sobriety so special on a daily basis. To be able to appreciate each other’s personalities and help each other out when we are feeling less than fantastic. It’s the memories that are made and the freedom to express ourselves without judgement. It is the chaos of family life that sometimes makes me frantic but also fill me with complete joy. Being able to laugh at myself, which I do a lot, and so do my kids, is one of the greatest gifts of sobriety. Being sober Rocks.