It’s August 29th.
My husband’s birthday.
My daughter is home recovering from surgery. We’re going to my oldest daughter’s house for pizza, homemade pineapple upside-down cake, and peanut butter blossom cookies, both made from scratch by her for her dad.
There will probably be games because we are that family.
And me?
I would like to sleep.
That’s it.
I don’t want a vacation. I don’t need a spa day. I’m not asking to be whisked away somewhere tropical with a fruity drink and absolutely no idea what day it is.
I just want my bed.
Preferably with no one asking me a question, needing me to find something, telling me something hurts, calling my name from another room, or beginning a sentence with, “Hey, real quick…”
Because it is never real quick.
And I don't mean that in a selfish leave me the hell alone kind of way.
Okay, maybe like 12% that way.
But mostly in an I am so unbelievably tired that I don't know my right from my left anymore kind of way.
The last few days have been a blur of pain, hospitals, doctors, surgery, waiting rooms, worrying, medications, checking on her, checking on everyone else, and trying to keep myself from thinking too far ahead.
And today I just want everything to be okay.
Not amazing.
Not magical.
Just… okay.
I want my daughter to heal. I want my husband to have a good birthday. I want to eat pizza and cake and laugh with my family. I want to play some ridiculously competitive game that someone will inevitably take too seriously.
I want one of those smooth-sailing days people talk about.
You know the ones?
No chaos.
No sickness.
No drama.
No unexpected phone calls.
No fires to put out.
Just the regular responsibilities, the ones you're actually supposed to have.
Although at this point, I'm starting to think "smooth sailing" is something people made up to sell throw pillows.
Because I genuinely cannot remember the last time life was just… quiet.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I'm still doing what moms and wives and women everywhere seem to do.
Keeping it together.
Or at least creating the general appearance that I am.
I'm showing up. I'm checking the medications. I'm remembering the birthday. I'm going to dinner. I'm laughing. I'm playing the games.
Meanwhile, somewhere inside my brain, there is one tiny woman standing in the middle of a completely trashed office holding a clipboard screaming,
“DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”
No.
No, she does not.
But maybe that's okay today.
Maybe today doesn't have to make sense.
Maybe I don't need to figure everything out.
Maybe we eat the pizza.
We sing happy birthday.
We eat my daughter's homemade cake and cookies.
We play the games.
I look around the room at the people I love and remind myself that my daughter is home.
She's recovering.
We're together.
And after the last few days, maybe that's enough.
Then, when it's all over, I am going home.
I'm getting into my bed.
And if anyone needs me…
Please reconsider.