Things That Make You Go Hmmm (or Ay-yi-yi)

I called the gymnastics people three times in 24 hours. Well, actually five, if you count the hang ups when I got the machine. On my third (fifth) and final call, the lady who answered all but called me a stalker. "Yes, I was just going to call you. I did get your message, but the guy you need to talk to isn't here until Thursday because he had a death in the family, and I can't exactly call him at the funeral...."

I thought: What? You mean I can't get an answer on whether you have the gym available for my daughter's birthday party until Thursday? That's like, 48 hours away! If I don't get this nailed down, I can't do invitations. And if I can't get the invitations out, no one will know about it in time! And then no one will come! And then her WHOLE BIRTHDAY WILL BE RUINED and IT WILL BE ALL MY FAULT and SHE WILL BE SCARRED FOREVER THAT SHE DIDN'T HAVE A SINGLE BIRTHDAY PARTY UNTIL SHE WAS FIVE and WHERE ARE WE GOING TO HAVE THE PARTY IF I CAN'T BOOK IT HERE? (I'd go on, but I'm afraid if I keep writing in all caps, my computer will freeze that way.)

I said: Oh, I'm sorry! I understand! So sorry to be the psycho who keeps calling. I'll wait to hear back when he returns Thursday. Okay, thank you. Bye.

Then I had one of those moments, the kind where the sane part of your brain (the one with the therapist tendencies) stages an intervention on the raving mad part of your brain (the one with the chicken little, total loss of perspective tendencies).

Therapist brain:
Do you realize how small this birthday party is in the scheme of things?

Raving mad brain:
No!! Isn't that obvious by now?

Therapist brain:
Take a deep breath. You haven't made any specific promises. Even if this gym party doesn't work out, you can always host a small gathering at your house.

Raving mad brain:
At my house? You really don't know me at all, do you? You just doubled my blood pressure. Hope you're happy.

Therapist brain:
Okay, so you're hostile and certifiable. This is going to be harder than I thought. How about this. Take a big step back. And another. Keep going. Okay, you should have reached the most outermost parts of the brain by now. Very good. Now STAY THERE. And leave the rest of us normal brain cells the hell alone, mmkay?


So yeah, I spaced on planning a party for Dani's fourth birthday, which is in, oh, two weeks or so. And yup, I completely lost perspective and went into high anxiety mode for about four hours before coming to my senses. But it's all going to be fine, party or no party. And I decided that instead of beating myself up about being such a frail little freak show of needless worry, it would be better just to laugh about it.

Speaking of freak shows....
I made a similar choice--to laugh instead of beat them up--when I discovered my old-enough-to-know-better kids had taken up costume design. With markers. On their faces.
"But we're Indians! And we needed to color on our faces so we could help the pilgrims!"

Yeah, that makes zero sense.
Must run in the family.

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