Well, I experienced another near-perfect storm the other night. Not enough sleep, a long day at work, anxiety over driving a mini-bus with eight teenagers to West Lafayette the following morning and a Community Night filled with detailed descriptions of 75-plus marching band movements, four alumni award presentations and a litany of “thank yous” that I may have actually dozed off during. By 9:15, I couldn’t hold back the complaining, eye-rolling or phone Solitaire wave of exhaustion and impatience. Doo did not find me entertaining and handed me the keys. Message? “If you can’t pull your shtick together right now, leave. This is about our daughter. And the car I might win.” Fine. His stinky breath was driving me bonkers, anyway. And yes, I told him.
The problem is that when I’m severely sleep-deprived and “stuck” at an event, I completely ignore everyone else around me and focus on how awful I feel. I can usually buy time by retreating to a bathroom, but often I just revert to rudeness. I simply cannot control the expressions on my face or the words that come out of my mouth, even though I know they are hurtful and/or disrespectful. It’s total decompensation.
Through the years, Doo has learned to recognize the signs, and does his best to “handle” me before I go Chernobyl. I must have been throwing off major radiation warnings because after five more minutes of me pouting (I couldn’t actually leave; I’d just have to come back for him.), he called the ball. I was home in bed within minutes.
So despite the near-perfect storm, the Danielle Wilson did not sink. Thanks, Doo!
Peace out.
