Day Three: Donuts and Water Bombs

 

Today we finally had a birthday party for my son Mack. It was a typical Morgan backyard birthday party:

water bombs, super soakers, slingshots, a watermelon baseball derby, donuts on a string, finger rockets, and good ole dodgeball. And despite the heaviness I felt when I woke up this morning, I found a bit of my old self, rising to the surface.

Hello, you. Nice to see you again. Shall we decimate the children with water balloons?

Oh, there were moments throughout the day when I thought that I would lose it. Like when I was driving around, picking up party stuff, and listening to that darn radio. (Yes, that again. Radio, I call you foe. Foe!) But stoicism prevailed and I remained dry-eyed all day long. More importantly, I remained sane for the duration my own kid's birthday party. And sober--though I did sneak one beer. But, hey, no one expected me to drive home.

Some friends of mine invited me out this evening, and I seriously considered it. But the image of me kicking back with a fruity cocktail in hand was hampered by the perpetual scowl across my face. Sigh. I am not ready for that kind of fun. I don't think that I'll be ready for a carefree girls' night out for a while longer. 

But that's okay. In that regard, I'm perfectly normal. Normal! Who'd a thunk it.

Okay, let's not get carried away with all this normal talk. I'm still the woman who got on her hands and knees to clean the floor after everyone left. Yes, there have been tools and gadgets invented for that sort of thing, but I still felt the need to punish myself with this arcane method of cleaning. And it made me feel less guilty for being a little happy today.

One day at a time...