As for my "Not Me! Monday" post and why I Twittered about a recent emotional meltdown, here you go.....
Sunday morning, just after getting back from a 4 day/3 night business trip, I did not wake up feeling exhausted. I also did not wonder (aloud) if I should just skip church. After hitting the snooze button several times, I did not grumble as I got out of bed.
My 10 year old daughter did not wake up crying that she didn't want to go to church, complain that she didn't know what to wear and didn't keep us waiting in the car while she tried to find a pair of shoes (even though she has a dozen pair). I was not grumpy (and tired) to begin with, so I happily helped her find a cool outfit and did not bark, "Don't even start with me this morning young lady!" as I went to wake up the others.
I did not try on several pairs of pants just to pull out a dirty pair of denim capri's from my suitcase because the other ones did not fit me. I did not want to cry because it was quite obvious that I've gained several pounds.
With five reluctant and tired children, I was not fifteen minutes late for church, did not miss 75% of worship and did not silently wish I was at home...sleeping.
I did cheer up as our pastor began preaching and was thankful that my oldest son was actually taking notes and paying attention. After service, I happily browsed the church bookstore shelves and then the kids and I headed over to another church (where my husband plays worship) so we could encourage him.
After that service, I took my younger three home and waited for my husband and our older sons to return. I wasn't feeling well and started to feel some anxiety creeping in. Shortly after they arrived, I started feeling worse. I wasn't sure why I was feeling anxious, but my heart was starting to beat fast, I was sweating and my mind was racing. I took several deep breaths and rushed to my bedroom to cry. I could feel the anxiety attack coming on and was hoping to force it away with a good cry.
My husband came in and laid next to me not knowing I had been silently weeping. He gently stroked my back and then one of my children came in (I can't recall who) and DID NOT promptly announce that I had a hole in my pants. My husband did not pat my tush and say matter-of-factly, "I know." I, therefore, was not immediately horrified when my hand reached behind me and felt a huge gaping five to six inch split instead of a tiny unnoticeable tear.
I did not begin to sob uncontrollably into my pillow while vivid pictures of me praising God with my hands held high in worship, bending over to look at books on lower shelves and bending over to pick up chocolate muffin crumbs from the sanctuary floor flashed through my already anxious mind.
My daughter did not try to console me by saying, "Mommy, you can't see it when your shirt is over it!" and my husband did not try to help me feel better by telling me that it must have happened after church (the 2nd one) because he would have noticed it. Nevermind the fact that he was up on stage leading worship when I entered the church (from the back...LATE!!) and his back was turned to me when I left. He also did not burst out laughing after calling me "pumpkin" when he realized his not-so-humerous pun. You know, seeing as my panties were ORANGE! Nope...not my sensitive husband.
Calm and collected, I did not have to take something (a medication that I've never had to take before, but prescribed to me for moments like this, I imagine.) so that I could calm down, because the very unfortunate "I don't know when my pants ripped during my very public morning" circumstance did not emotionally push me over the edge. Nope. I handled it all very well and am quite proud of my reaction to such an embarassing experience. ::sigh::
I did, however, wake up in my loving husbands arms two hours later. He held me as I took a much needed nap and I'm grateful that even though splitting ones pants is rather humerous, he understood that it was just something I could not deal with at that particular moment. Despite all the tears of anxiety and embarassment, my loving (and, yes, sensitive husband) made me laugh in the end. Oh, and um, honey? I just wanted to say "Thanks!! You're the best!"