Glue

On this night of studying for my final final (at least, until I can afford to continue studying at UNF), I'm battling a migraine, growing out of my "fat pants", and mourning the loss of my once-upon-a-time overflowing savings account (this affects me now because I'm so freakin' sick of eating pasta but it's all I can afford). I am arguing with my lawyer via email because I can't afford to call her to tell her she takes too long to answer my questions. I have a feeling I'm going to get thrown under the bus at my monthly staff meeting tomorrow. My dryer is full of dress pants from my skinny days when nothing fit me. Now they do. Thanks to all that pasta.

Basically, I'm exhausted. In every way - physically, emotionally, financially. So when Elle climbed out of the shower tonight with shampoo bubbles still glistening in her hair, I went over the edge. I didn't yell - I just quit. Elle went back into the tub, underwear still on, and I rinsed her hair clean. She knew I needed quiet time, apparently, because a few minutes after she got out of the shower for the second time, I found her in the living room watching Charlie Wilson's War with her grandparents. In the dark. Being quiet. Very quiet.

I invited her into my bedroom to watch cartoons until bedtime and she happily accepted. When Elle walked in, she asked me to close my eyes because she had a very special present to give to me. All of a sudden, I felt this crushing squeeze around my stomach and I heard my daughter say...

"Mommy, I'm gonna put glue all over my hands so you'll be stuck to me when I hug you and you won't be able to go away."

Migraine? ALL GONE.