Coping mechanims

Yes, I know my blog has kind of been a downer lately. So, here is a picture of holiday merriment and cheer taken at our ward Christmas party yesterday. Mia decided she didn't trust the santa enough to sit on his lap and made him stand next to her in the picture instead. The power of a determined not-quite-four year old is a sight to behold.

Today was another relaxing (Ha!) Sunday in the Hanosek household. I was languidly aroused from sleep by a cheerful little angel insisting that she needed me to play snake family (Mia's newest rendition of playing house...thank goodness she has moved past spider family, it was icky). And I jaunted merrily down the stairs to make a well balanced breakfast, simmered in love...in my mind. In reality I sat Mia down in front of the TV with a sippy cup of pink milk and went back to bed with my full blown case of mono. Charlie eventually felt guilty enough to get out of bed and make the poor child pancakes. We cleaned ( I recently discovered that if I tell Mia that we are playing Cinderella she will pitch in a little bit with chores. Yes I am a genius, tell your friends). I started stuff cooking in the crockpot, feeling quite smug with myself since I was obviously a successful little housewife with dinner started already. Then I looked at the clock and realized that I only had about 20 minutes until I had to be at church. I tossed a dress at Mia and prayed it didn't have any stains on it and decided that I just wasn't going to have time to do my hair, or shower, or any such nonsense and grabbed my "nursery uniform" (aka a long enough skirt that I can crawl around on the floor and a shirt with a high enough neck line that I can lean over and break up fights without exposing myself) and tugged it on while running out the door. (don't worry, my neighbors are used to me.)

Once there, it became obvious that either I had buttoned my top crookedly or someone had spread the word that I was not only disease ridden, but in the process of watching my mom lose her battle with cancer. I hate pity even if it is just for an unfortunate haircut. I can handle just about anything with my sword of scathing sarcasm and sheild of inappropriate humor, but the minute someone is sweet and caring about me I generally fall apart. Sympathy quickly reduces me to a blubbering mess, and I was already a mess with my lack of shower and what not, so church couldn't be over too soon for me. Luckily I got to hide in the nursery among the three year olds for most of the time. Preschoolers don't care about the health of your mom or what sort of diseases you are carrying, they only care about who has the fruit snacks.

So, now I have three choices. I could either hide in my house and not talk to anyone until I have reinforced my hard candy coating of self depreciation and can deflect all well meaning relief society thugs, or I could just take it and allow everyone in a five mile radius to see that I am a mere mortal, and an emotionally unstable one at that. The third option I have come up with is to trip anyone who comes up to me with a somber and sincere look on their face and point and laugh at them to break the tension. So, who wants to guess which one I am leaning towards?

Ok, really, here is my moment of serious gratitude...are you ready?....take a deep cleansing breath because here it comes... I never realized how many amazing wonderful people actually care about me and what I am dealing with. I am a very lucky girl to associate all of you. And if I trip you and point and laugh it is done out of love from the bottom of my heart.