Anger and the art of not screaming at the top of my lungs

You know the type of morning I’ve had. We all have them. Get up late. Rush around to get the kid out the door. Hurried crappy breakfast. Unimaginative bagged lunch with no Pinterest worthy cutesy stuff inserted. Unfinished morning tasks: no time to brush your hair, just leave it. You’re going with the Bohemian look today (aka slob). Quick sharp replies. Spilled milk. Forgotten homework that should be turned in today (or in my friend’s house, an entirely forgotten backpack). I attempt to smile and give a genuine hug to hubby and kid, all while under the surface, anger boils, and I want to scream at them for sleeping in late. But wait, I slept in late, too.  Whatever. Late is late. I’m clenching my teeth and doing my best Academy Award Winning actress routine: Cyd, in the role of the happy mommy who smiles no matter how much the perfect morning just turned to crap and makes her want to scream.

Then I’m off to start my morning routine of zen: cup of coffee, comfy chair, check emails, work on the blog that is always getting put on the back burner, spend some time studying my online class. And WHAM! Internet goes down. Really? I’m cursing the cats for tripping, yet again, the cord that plugs into the computer. Again? Seriously? Why do I have cats? Why haven’t I figured out a way for that damn cord to permanently be installed into that thingamabob box that is the source of all things internet-y? The source to the outside world. What’s the point of having a geek husband if he can’t figure out how to make that happen? And why did I say yes to my son when he asked if we could have cats? If we didn’t have cats, I wouldn’t be disconnected from the internet right now. Arrrrrgggghhhhhhh and several expletives are boiling under the surface.

Breathe in. Breathe out. But wait…the cord is in the thingamabob box. The cats are lazily camped out on the warmest spot in the house as if they own the place – far away from the cord they love. Now what? I reboot. That’s what dear hubby says to do. I reboot again. Not working!! Breathe in. Breathe out. Give up. Call Comcast. Uh-oh. I haven’t paid the bill. It used to be on autopay with our debit card. But thanks to all things security-ish not working in this security-dependent banking world we live in, we received a new card with one of those fancy little shiny square security chips on it. It’s quite fancy. But apparently I forgot to update the card with Comcast. Of course, they emailed me ~ at the @comcast email account that I seriously never check. Well, smarty pants, if I don’t have internet, how can I check my email? Oh. It was sent two months ago? Maybe I should make it a point to check that @comcast email account more frequently.  You know, because I have absolutely NOTHING else to do. The anger is bubbling and starting to rise to the surface. I whip out the fancy dancy new shiny square chipped card and methodically read the numbers to Mr. Customer Service. He thanks me and assures me that the internet will be reconnected in 15 minutes. “Is there anything else I can help you with today?” he asks. Are you kidding? YES! The cats. Can you tell me why I have cats? Can you tell me what possessed me to sleep late and miss my morning meditation? Can you figure out how to magically scan this homework and put it in my kid’s backpack? How about helping me figure out a better lunch for my kid that he’ll actually eat instead of my having to make it Pinteresty so that he’ll even consider shoving it in his pie hole? My coffee is now cold. Can you help me with that? Can you help me find my peaceful, quiet, organized, happy and perfect morning? How about at least giving me some tips on how to keep that cord plugged into the thingamabob box? “No thanks. I’m good.” For some reason his politeness pisses me off and the cats lounging in the sun irritates me and the last of the coffee in the pot is now bone-chillingly cold in my cup! And my anger cup runneth over.

Wait, what? What the hell am I angry about?

Breathe in. Breathe out. Take a look at it from a different perspective.

We all woke up late. That’s some extra zzz’s that we probably all needed. I had some extra cuddle time with my hubby. The kid’s in fourth grade. How important can that homework be to his future education? He completed it with perfect understanding…that should count for something. No one is keeping a score card of how bad his hair looks on any given day. And if they are, screw ’em. It doesn’t matter that he won’t eat half of his crappy lunch, he’s still growing and thriving. He’s a genuinely happy and funny kid. And I know for sure that when I see him after school, he won’t even remember that we woke up late. He’ll remember the smile and wave and the hug and the “I love you” as he hurriedly ran out the door. I hope he remembers those hugs for a lifetime. I hope I’m giving him enough hugs that will sustain him when I’m long gone. Internet, schminternet. Who needs it today? It’s a gorgeous day! I should take a walk. I should lay in the sun with those two adorable cats named Bootz and Midnight who magnanimously allow us to live here.  Maybe I’ll make a PInterest worthy dinner and blog about it. Maybe I won’t. Cold coffee? I love cold coffee. Maybe I’ll add some ice to it and build a fire in the fireplace and meditate by the fire.

Buddha said, “you will not be punished for your anger; you will be punished by your anger.” My anger tried to punish me today by attempting to make me miss the point, the bigger picture. Well, HA! Anger. Nice try. I’m not biting. I control how I look at my world. I control my anger button. I’m not pushing it today. I have a shiny bright new square chipped debit card and I’m not afraid to use it! I paid that internet bill and I’m back in business. I wrote that first blog that I’ve been hesitant and afraid to write for fear of ridicule (uh…that’s this one). The cats saved me the trip. One is at my feet and the other is jockeying with the keyboard for a spot on my lap.  I have a lovely cup of ice cold coffee in my hand.

What the hell am I angry about? Nada. Not a thing.

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