I have discovered the weirdest paradox. While I, like many self-aware adults in this modern world, appreciate a good excuse to cancel plans and stay home in jammies, it turns out this isn't always the self-care boon we (people like me) take it to be. It turns out that making plans, getting dressed and ready to go, and having a miscommunication disrupt half of your activities while you're already in the groove is also a major energy drain. I felt worse for staying home than I would have if we had done what I thought we were doing. And after a small handful of passive aggressive texts back and forth (both directions--I'm not innocent), my head and throat hurt like I had a screaming fight, even though we were silent.
The first half of my plan went as scheduled, although bumped up by an hour and a half to accommodate a group excursion. My son-in-law and I met to discuss a character I am developing, and we shared the cinnamon rolls I made yesterday. (They were okay. Need a little je ne sais quoi.) We concluded at the time we originally wanted to start, and I had thought from there the girls would join Mr S-P and me for a trip to Costco. Instead the girls ran two errands to towns on either side of ours, and by the time I got back to pick up the Mr, he had gotten cranky over me taking "so long" and walked to two stores to find the one thing he had planned to purchase. So I sat around for an hour, fighting my laptop that refused to boot up, getting into quite a mood, waiting for him to show up so we could still go. Instead, I got lectured about how I had thrown off his schedule, and he wasn't going.
As the only one left of a party of four, I was uninterested in stomping around Costco alone, muttering made up arguments into my mask against the people who abandoned me, angrily buying crap I didn't need, to fill the emotional gaps created by the chaos. But instead of the joy I ought to have found in canceling plans, I spent hours with a pounding head, sore throat, metallic taste in my mouth, and a distinct lack of spoons to do anything. This is not how it ought to work!
To top it off, when I left the kids' house, I got the full brunt of a separation anxiety howl as I closed the storm door and walked to the edge of the porch. Grumpus was standing in her playpen, five feet from the door, shrieking as her grandma walked away. I have never wanted to run back inside more, to grab her and promise never to leave. She eventually returned to her normal, charming self, but wow, was that hard to hear. We have rescheduled the trip for tomorrow morning, and I am so glad she will be there with us. After a sound like that, it will be grandma who needs the cuddles.
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