Today is a day like any other. I woke up wishing I could sleep another 8 hours, but Baby Boy was screaming at me to get him out of his crib and his sister was pounding on the door she refuses to open. I took the baby back to my bed to nurse him and maybe get some peace for a moment. Then came the gentle sound of my bedroom door being pushed open by The Toddler.
"Hi Momma," she mumbles in her sleepy little voice.
"Good morning, sweetheart!" I respond enthusiastically.
Now is when everything loses it's shine.
"Time for breakfast. Time to get ready. Time to do all the things! The day is starting without me! Again! I'm wasting time! Hurry up!" I'm yelling in my head.
I take the kids to the kitchen.
"What would you like to eat? Oatmeal?"
"NOOOOOO!" The toddler screams back to me like I had taken away her Cinderella Barbie.
I open the fridge to see plenty of food and none that looks the least bit appetizing or sustaining. I go back and forth between eating and not eating.
"I want a po-nana, Momma!"
"No, the po-nanas are yucky," I reply sullenly, remembering the desire to make banana bread with said "yucky po-nanas" which are completely brown. "How about some toast?"
She agrees. I make her toast while I FaceTime a friend. I open the fridge again, hoping something has changed its appearance. Nothing has. I look at the bottom shelf, where my Coke is kept. Is it ever really too early for a Coke? I think not, but I pass on it anyway, settling for honey Greek yogurt after the husband has walked through the kitchen and noticed my lack of an appetite. The Husband announces that we need to leave in half an hour. I'm still eating yogurt. He takes the kids to the room to change their clothes. I fix The Toddler's hair, we all find shoes and we load up into the van. As The Baby is being put in his seat he barfs all over himself, requiring another change of clothes. He then falls asleep on the drive to Husband's Parents' House. The Husband and The Toddler go inside, but I stay and let The Baby sleep. It was a decent morning, and not even 11:00 AM, so this is a good thing. The day hasn't been wasted. We help in the garden for a while, then Mother-In-Law and I talk while making sure Father-In-Law doesn't use his one-day-post-op hand for anything. I'm genuinely happy. I love being outside. I love chatting with people. I love laughing with people. Then we go home for lunch and nap time. The Husband goes back to work. The kids eat and are then put down for their nap. This is when I hate myself most. I have so much to do, but I just want to nap. I need to eat but I'd rather not. I try to find something easy, but ruin it because I'm just that good. It's quiet and I am alone. This is when I reach for my Coke. It tastes like comfort and feels like love. Ya know, Coke soothes me in a way I can't explain. A can, a bottle, a fountain drink, just Coke. Coke tells me it's ok to slow down. Coke tells me I can nap if I need a nap. Coke tells me that the table will still be there to clean when you wake up. Coke tells me cleaning isn't the most important thing to do right now. Coke tells me I need to care for me the way I care for my family. Nothing will get done if I'm not taken care of, right? So, I sit in my messy kitchen, listening to the kids not sleep, smelling the easy meal I decided on burn, watch the cat torment the dog, and sip on my Coke, so for just a little bit, the world is quiet. First sip: ahhhh, an old friend welcomes me. Second sip: we discuss our feelings non- verbally. Third sip: we sit in the emotion that is my life, and that's where we sit until the can is gone, always too soon. Here is my thanks to Coca Cola, for buoying me up in the middle of the day, when my depression creeps in and wraps around me like the thick of night. Calming me down when my anxiety wraps around my throat and my heart begs to burst from my chest. Just me and my can of Coke, taking it a sip at a time.
