On "Losing It"

Last Saturday, following weeks and weeks of James working 70-80 hours a week, thereby rendering me a virtual single parent, I felt like I was "totally losing it". Don't get me wrong. I love my children with all my heart, but I NEEDED a break.

James had a priesthood leadership meeting that evening, and afterward went to dinner with a friend from the Stake. When he got home, I turned the kids over to him and said good-bye. He asked where I was going. "Out." I replied.

Then, I left.

Being the total rebel that I am, I drove to the grocery store . . . to buy starch, because we were out and I had a lot of ironing to do. And because I couldn't think of anything else to do. I just needed to get out, . . . alone.

In the grocery store, I didn't wander about, browsing. Nope, I walked briskly, like a woman on a mission, straight to the starch. Once I had it in my hand, I decided I probably needed something more. So I grabbed microwave popcorn (because we were out, and it was on sale), and lime sherbet (because I wanted something sweet and low-fat).

After checking out, it occurred to me that I now had an item that would rapidly melt. I felt disappointment, and a slight sense of relief, when I realized that my "outing" would be short-lived. I had to get this sherbet into the freezer.

I called James. "Are the kids in bed?" "Yes." "O.K., I'll be home in a while."

Not feeling completely ready to return home, I blasted the stereo in my car and accelerated onto the freeway . . . only to find myself behind the slowest driver in our city. There was traffic in the next lane, and my exit was coming right up, so I drove at an unfulfilling 50mph to my exit.

As I neared my home, I still didn't feel quite ready to go in. I drove around the block three times, finally pulling into my driveway as Simon and Garfunkel crooned, "Hoomeward bouund. I wish I waaas hoomeward bouund. "


My Dad has often said that if he ever "totally loses it" we can find him in the freeway meridian shooting out the headlights of the cars driving with their "brights" on--a pet peeve of his. (Before you call the police, just let me say that I have never questioned my Dad's sanity, so I think we're safe.)


So my Dad would shoot out "brights", while I, pathetically, buy starch. Perhaps that's a sign that I didn't "TOTALLY" lose it. . . . Maybe it was just a partial loss? Not that I want to shoot anything, or anything like that. It's just . . . starch?

So, how about you? What do you do, or where do you go when you "lose it?"