Hiding in the Closet…Literally

Yesterday, I had a rough day. Not because of any one singular thing. Everything that I needed to process forced itself to the surface and erupted into the mother of all headaches, nearly triggering a migraine. I could do nothing but sit in silence and cry a little.

Except I’m a mother.

I have an exceptionally wonderful husband who recognizes these moments and can sweep our girls away. Last night, when everything got to the point where I couldn’t function well, I knew I had to put myself in time-out. My girls were busying themselves by taking turns playing “doggie” (one is the dog and the other gives commands to the dog or throws a ball to play fetch…they do this nearly every day, which comes with a reminder from them that they want/need a dog). I snuck away to our room and hid in our closet. I didn’t want to interrupt my Beloved while he prepared our dinner. (Yes, he was making dinner! He cooks nearly every night of the week. God, I love that man!) I sent him a text to let him know where I was.

laying down on shoes. on the floor of our closet. light turned on because sometimes I’m afraid of the dark.

When I was little, my father and I would play hide and seek in the house. I always  hid in the closet. Often falling asleep in there. I loved the feel of the many textures of the clothes and shoes. I also enjoyed the way the clothes smelled with the mixed leather smell of his loafers and my mother’s pumps. I’ve always found great comfort in the closet. No surprise at all that I would feel safe in there during threatening tornado weather.

I’m in the closet for maybe five minutes before our girls discover me. I asked them to give mommy a few minutes. They didn’t. They kept screaming and banging on the door. My smallest one shrieking because she wanted to be near me. I wanted to be near her, hold her, and comfort her, but I knew as soon as she calmed, we’d be back to that headache-y place. Horror of all horrors, I firmly said, “Babies, mommy needs to be alone. Please leave me alone.” I HATE turning them away. I HATE myself for needing a moment like this. Because I want to hold them and love them with every fiber of my being because I feel like I’m away from them for so long. They left.

And I sobbed for a bit when I received a timely phone call from my Brother. Wherein I poured on to him my gratitude for coming down for my birthday. How I felt  happy, and excited that he will be there. I recognize how big of a deal it is: to coordinate days off in advance, make sure you are caught up on work, drive 6 hours, sleep on a couch, just to share time. Humbled. Incredibly so because I know some people that celebrate their birthdays or want to celebrate their birthdays and they don’t seem to have 1 single friend to celebrate with them. And me, I’m surrounded so many days of the month to celebrate life. Absolutely amazed beyond measure. In typical Brother fashion, he graciously accepted it and then we talked about other stuff. By the end of the conversation, we were erupting in laughter as I was recounting this video. Giggle fits and laughter.

exhale.

I think I’m ready to crawl out of my time-out. I can hear my girls squealing with joy in the backyard, where Captain America* is grilling. I reach up to open the door and it is stuck. I can’t open the door. I try again. Still stuck. I’m trying to deconstruct the door. It isn’t jammed in the doorway. Jiggling doesn’t work. There isn’t a lock on it. And then all of a sudden I’m hot because the light has been on and there isn’t much circulation in the closet. I was fine hiding in the closet, but being locked in the closet brings a different meaning. After several more minutes, I finally swallow my pride and call my husband to let me out.

He doesn’t hear the phone or it didn’t go through. I texted and heard his jingle. My heart sank because I feared his phone was in our bedroom and he was outside. So I sat there, thinking, pondering, breathing. Called again and this time he answered. He chuckled and wondered where I’d been. I guess he hadn’t seen my earlier text about hiding. Then again, he could’ve thought I was playing a game. Which I often do. He let me in and I remembered that for whatever reason, you can’t open our closet from the inside. I know this because The Sugarbean has been “locked” in there a few times herself.

I had to laugh. And laugh I did. While hugging on my girls, as they rubbed my head. My eldest giving a running commentary. “Mommy, we are rubbing your head because you have a head-ick. And it hurts. And I need to talk softer for you (lowering her volume) because it helps you. I’m sorry for your head-ick. I hope this helps it to feel better. I love you, Mommy.” And the Sugarbaby gives me a kiss and a nuzzle telling me she loves me too.

My Beloved had given me a bar of chocolate: salted caramel Godiva milk chocolate and a hug.

I am so blessed.