So, I learned a valuable lesson today.
I have been in a foul mood for days. The above picture demonstrates exactly how I have been feeling, although my reasons have nothing to do with my mean parents making me wear an itchy tuxedo simply for their own entertainment and cutie pie pictures to embarrass me with someday (sorry, sweetheart).
It is the stress of waiting, waiting, waiting, to see if my husband will find a job. His severance runs out in one week. After that, if he doesn't find a job, we are screwed. I was hoping, hoping, hoping, that tonight we would be drinking the bottle of champagne we have been saving in the refrigerator, celebrating his new job. But, we haven't heard anything. And since this is a holiday weekend, it won't be until mid-week or the end of the week before we know anything. Days before his severance runs out.
And I haven't felt quite right since my miscarriage. My mood is off and I have a feeling that the scar tissue from my c-section last year and the scar tissue from my endometriosis are wreaking mucho havoc down there in the lower regions, causing me to have a constant ache in my abdomen. Stupid scar tissue.
I also discovered that some of my favorite pictures of my son were deleted from my camera when I saved them onto the computer. Not sure what I did to make that happen, but I was pissed.
The problem is when I am terribly afraid of the future or sad because of the past or present, these emotions reveal themselves on the outside as anger. I suppose it is my defense mechanism to keep from crying all the time, although the foulness of my mood just causes other problems.
So, I was in my son's room with him this afternoon, playing with his recycling truck and his blocks. I laid down on the carpet, as I often do when he has worn me out, and sprawled out my legs and hair and arms.
Suddenly, my son dove on top of me and rolled over my body onto the floor next to me. He thought it was hilarious!! He laughed and laughed, and decided to do it again. He rolled over me and screamed and giggled over his own cleverness. Even though I wasn't in the mood whatsoever to laugh, I forced myself to fake laugh for him.
And a funny thing happened. The more I fake laughed, the funnier he thought it was. And the more he laughed, the more my fake laugh became a real laugh. We just layed on the floor together, staring straight into each other's eyes, and laughed as hard as we could!
He started poking his finger in my mouth because he is fascinated by my teeth, so I stuck my finger in his mouth and touched his teeth, which he also thought was hilarious! Then he leaned down and baby kissed me, which of course consists of just drool (he hasn't quite gotten the kissing thing down yet), and I was thrilled. We must have layed there and laughed, touching each other's teeth, for at least a couple of minutes.
And you know what? When I sat up, I felt so much better. The anger that was hardening my heart went away and I felt so light. So airy. When my husband walked in the room, I didn't try to kill him with my eyes. I even smiled! I forgot to be foul!
So, lesson learned. When wishing that my looks could kill, stop and laugh like a child. Repeat at least once a day. Gosh, I just hope I can remember to do it again tomorrow.
And I hope I never use the word "gosh" on this blog again. Where did that come from?