Ah, the sweet renewal of slumber. Its forgiving clutches embraced me for nearly 11 hours last night, thanks to my sweet husband, who took over the kiddy/kitchen cleanup/bathtime/pajamas/book-reading/bedtime reins and let me go to bed early.
After feeling obscenely short on attention and patience all day, I knew my ticket was finally up when, around 6:30pm, I nearly had a breakdown when John was unable to procure from his wallet the $7.50 I requested for Finney's December lunch schedule, which was due today to his preschool director, in cash, and in exact change.
What do you mean you don't have any money in your wallet?
What if there was an emergency?
What type of example are you setting?
This is just unacceptable!
An egregious front to the sanctity of fatherhood and all it represents!
Nevermind that I always take care of getting the cash for Finn's lunches on my own and therefore threw John a complete curveball with my last-minute request.
And nevermind that I didn't have any money in my wallet, either, so I had no right to opine on the propriety of a parent toting an empty wallet.
Logic was out the door at this point, sipping a Mai Tai and laughing at my ridiculous internal histrionics.
Don't worry, I didn't say any of those asinine things to John, nor did I mean them. They just ran in a ticker-tape rant through my sleep-deprived mind. But I knew that, when I felt my lower lip begin to tremble and heard my voice crack when I simply replied, "Really, you don't have any money in there?" that it was time to hang it up for the day.
Today, thanks to a $5 bill from Grandma and 10 quarters from the laundry cabinet's change-recovery bucket, Finn's money was paid on time for his three Friday pizza lunches in December.
And John, I betcha, stopped at the ATM.
And I, feeling human once again, will do so, as well.
Thankfully, my inner ticker tape doesn't run a course straight to my mouth, or I'd be crafting a Mea Culpa this morning instead of a Mea So Silly.