Behind every Crazy Mom wondering how they got that way is a friend, at the ready, to remind you exactly how you got that way.
Let me back track. I love to write this blog. It entertains and comforts me to have my place to say what is on my heart and mind…or not. Today was an or not kind of day. I woke up with a familiar anxiety which tells me I need to write. But alas the cold front hit my brain and I was out of ideas…until I got one.
Sue to the rescue…not the first time.
I asked for readers to throw out writing prompts. Anything they might like to know or read. I promised fame in the blogosphere. Being one for glamour and the spotlight, Sue chimed in. “What about your crazy pregnancy stories, you know the one… my favorite.” Which lead to an exchange to determine which story she was referring to because sadly…there are many. But I had that ol gut feeling that she would let me run but not hide from my infamous morning at Krispy Kreme. So for you, My Dear Friend, I shall tell the Chronicals of Krispy Kreme…
The year was 2003 and I was pregnant… again. The Big Brother was 3, Johnny was 18 months old and I was about 7 or 8 months pregnant with The Little Brother. To add to the excitement, The Captain was deployed to Iraq, the War had just started and we had no date for any homecoming.
Oh and I was trying to potty train The Big Brother. I reeeaaalllly needed him to go to pre-school and he needed to be potty trained. Let’s just say The Big Brother was NOT on-board.
Because all of that wasn’t enough fun I had developed some crazy reverse morning sickness. So I spent April and May yaking around the clock and sipping purple gatorade. I think The Little Brother still has a purple tinge to him.
You could say I was beginning to come unglued or I had just driven my train into crazy town. I’m sure my friends will clarify.
Military life being what it is, my friends rallied around me and I carried on, purple gatorade and all.
During that time our only hope was Playgroup. This got us out of the house. It gave the Boys other faces to look at and me the opportunity to use sentences with more than two words. It also gave Sue an opportunity to invite me over to her house. I lived for those invitations. Okay…I’ll admit I mostly invited myself.
Anywhoooo…this particular morning our Playgroup was going on a field trip…to Krispy Kreme. The kiddos were going to get a tour and see how they make the donuts. All very exciting stuff.
I was supposed to be there at 10 a.m. I lived minutes away. If only I could get in my car. In trying to get there I had just a few problems… I couldn’t stop throwing up, The Big Brother would only pee-on the floor-after he got off the potty and Johnny didn’t walk yet and was screaming in the pack and play. I believe I might have been shedding a few tears as well.
All I could think….I’m going to be late, I’m going to be late, we’re going to MISS EVERYTHING! Finally, I am able to unwrap my arms from the toilet, put some dry pants on The Big Brother, calm down Johnny and we are off.
Like a Mommy on a Mission minutes later I arrive at Krispy Kreme. Only problem, I am about 20 minutes too late. Nerves completely frayed and sanity long gone, I enter and am greeted by Sue who asks, “Hey Ame, where ya been, ya missed everything?” Let’s just say, I can take a lot–two toddlers, pregnant, throwing up, husband at war — but that was the perverbial straw that broke me. My Boys MISSED the donut tour. What kind of a Mommy takes that kind of information without emotion? Certainly not me.
So, I did the next natural thing…I stood in the middle of Krispy Kreme, 8 months pregnant screaming and sobbing uncontrollably, “I COULDN’T GET OUT OF THE F###IN HOUSE!!!!!!!” AND NOW MY BOYS MISSED THE TOUR, THE DONUTS, AND EVERYTHING.” Except I was in such a state it took an interpreter (and two good friends) to understand. Weeeelll, I think the “F” word came out pretty clear.
I then proceeded to have a good ol cry and complete melt down in the middle of Krispy Kreme. That, Dear Reader, is how Krispy Kreme became an adjective. A perfect, concise term that describes all those moments when I can’t take it any more and all my hinges pop at once. They are my Krispy Kreme moments, days and weeks. Thank to Sue, I now have this mug for all of those times…
Nothing, and I mean nothing, says crazy quite like a Big Crying, Cursing Pregnant Lady in a Krispy Kreme. Or as Sue said, as she laughed, “trust me, someday you are going to laugh about how crazy you look.”
Well, Sue, I guess the day has come finally come…