It's getting bad

I didn't know it until this morning. It kind of snuck up on me. I was fine... at first. I woke up - still feeling groggy and overtired. I've been staying up pretty late to finish some crochet items that I sold on Etsy. I headed downstairs and that's when it hit me. That's when I realized something was missing.

That's when a lump in my throat appeared.

And I started making plans in my head. They were small thoughts... at first. The first plan was going to be a pain in the butt and it would have to wait until the kids were up. I contemplated going upstairs to stomp up and down the hallway rather loudly... opening and closing bedroom doors... opening and shutting the hallway closet doors with a thud... "accidentally" turning on their bedroom lights and exclaiming "Oops! Sorry girls... I thought you were already awake! You might as well get out of bed since mean 'ole Mommy already woke you up! Poor babies!" Yes, plans were starting to take root... I needed to replace what was missing.

A few more plans played out in my head... asking someone else to help me out, sneaking out and right back... borrowing, begging, stealing... NO... I'm an adult. A responsible 30-somethingish woman lady and I will handle this with dignity! I chose the most responsible plan and was momentarily satisfied.

Then I got a phone call... DELAYED. I wouldn't be able to carry out my plan as soon now.

The lump grew a bit. Ok, I thought to myself. No big deal... it'll be fine. My tired mother brain just needed to tweek the orignal plan so it became a slightly more pain-in-the-butt plan... but it would have to do.

I seemily appeared calm and collected on the outside as I flitted around the house, doing this and doing that. Putting clothes on to look presentable... letting the dogs out... brushing my hair... brushing my teeth... picking up the front room floor... letting the dogs back in... greeting my eldest daughter as she came down stairs... Still, all the while, I couldn't stop watching the clock.

It won't be long now... till I can get it.

Except that it seemed an eternity. Time was going sooo slow that I could almost hear my own blood rushing through my veins.... the ticking of the imaginary grandfather clock... the dog quietly snoring in slo-mo. I felt the nervousness boiling in my stomach and making it's way higher. I was afraid I was going to bellow out my agitation if I didn't hold it together. I stood there, waiting for kids to be dropped off, waiting for Poppa to take off with the older two girls... waiting for them to drive away. Get out of my house!!!

Then they were gone! I grabbed my truck keys, grabbed the baby, grabbed the other kid and headed for the door. Wait! Where was my wallet? I dashed into the kitchen and grabbed my wallet? (Why was it in the kitchen, you ask? Well, that saying "A place for everything and everything in it's place"? Yeah... well, it doesn't always work here.)

Hurry, other kid, walk faster! Emma, get into your carseat and buckle yourself. Other kid, climb into the truck. Hey, other kid, where'd those scratches come from on your forehead? What? It doesn't matter right now, we've got to go and we've got to go now!

I drive to our neighborhood "Farmer's Market" store... *gasp* and drive right by. There's someone there I know! I may have clothes on and my hair might be slightly done, but that doesn't mean I'm show quality. After all, I'm missing something!!! I drive 20 seconds down the road to the next store and park! There are only two young slightly men outside unloading large stacks of beverages outside.... who cares about them? I'm almost there!

I contemplated, once again... I could leave the kids in the car and dash in and be out before any cops show up. (You'll notice anytime I contemplate anything that I may not be thinking clearly. I appreciate if this wasn't held against me.) The rest is all a blur. I vaguely remember rows of groceries, walking much faster than usual, cash passing hands and a baby on a hip... but the rest is all kinds of blurry.

Until I get back out to the truck and realize what I'd just done. I know it's bad. It's crept in and taken over a bit more. I know it's bad when I take a half dressed baby (seriously, who does that?) into a corner liquor store in the early morning hours (ok, 8 am) and pays $5... yes FIVE dollars for a bottle of coffee creamer...

*hanging head in shame* I need help. Is there a support group for something like this?

P.S. Might I just add? One cup of creamer with a bit of coffee has been washed down and the shakes are gone... My nervous system is as calm and relaxed as a newborn baby in peaceful slumber.

P.P.S. It's bad, right? Bad, bad, terrible...