I know why I am angry. Or better, why I became so angry the other night.
Oh, and for what it is worth - I am not angry anymore.
But. . .Saturday was Steven's 57th birthday. Knowing our family [and me] y'all realize this involves food. Serious food. Made from scratch. All day.
Steven and I were laughing in the weeks leading up to Father's Day because, as is custom in our home, he was trying to pick what he wanted for that day's dinner. And lunch. And breakfast. The list was a page long before we started crossing things off.
But for his birthday dinner? There is only one choice. Fried chicken. Specifically my fried chicken. And white chocolate mousses pie for his birthday "cake".
The beautiful part is he cut up the chickens and after I made the flour/spice mixture Wallene coated it all. But only one person can fry it and that is me. Frying chicken and making pie takes some serious stand up time.
In the old days, no problem. Now, as I explained to a Tadpole this morning, I do my best work in the mornings, start to fade by noon and I am toast by dinner time.
And I know if I work too hard one day, the next day will be a complete and utter wash. I will be unable to do a thing.
I can't accept this. I just can't. And I don't know why I don't get it.
Instead of doing all of the work first thing in the morning I decided to make a huge breakfast instead. French toast, sausage, eggs and fried potatoes.
They loved it.
I felt great.
I figured I could do it all.
It was working.
Not so much.
By the time dinner rolled around the pain was such I couldn't stand upright to serve.
And Steven even made his world class potato salad, so it wasn't like I had a whole lot else to do for dinner and dessert. And Wallene just kept cleaning the kitchen. I only had to do it one time.
They like to help. They want to help.
Y'all want to help.
Y'all get that they want to help.
Why do I not get this? Why don't I realize that I can no longer do my job, a job that I love and take seriously?
The things is, I DO get it. I know it.
I just don't want to know it. Or acknowledge it.
And I damn sure don't want to accept it.
Funny thing is, I have never felt like a stubborn person. I hold fast to my convictions and beliefs, but stubborn isn't really me. I also don't feel like a control freak. Sometimes when I mention wanting to control my life I will get a random comment like "Well, that's the control freak in you."
No, no it's not. It's the need to keep a stability in my life that I am comfortable with and makes me happy. Like it used to be.
That's not being stubborn or controlling. It is just my desire to have things the way they were.
I am tired of false hope. I am weary from the glimmer of what I used to be able to get done. What I could do that I can't anymore.
I LOVE being a Mom. I LOVE being Steven's wife. But with all my tasks and responsibilities being taken over for me, what does that leave me?
A very empty soul. Who gets angry that she can't grab it back. And doesn't see a future that includes her.
I don't yell at God. Heck, I don't even question him. I simply pray that things will get better. But, I understand that God only gives you what you need and not necessarily what you want.
I know what I want. I just have to accept that I truly have all I need*. Right?
Thanks again for listening Tadpoles. We'll see you on the flipside. xo Janine
*except some kick ass pain meds ::grin::