218 BPM

I imagine that if my life had a soundtrack, the majority of the score would be set to a frenetic 218 beats per minute. Tick tick tick tick.

The day began at 5am. I woke up, feed the dog and cat, felt a wave of overwhelm starting to build behind me, and tried to distract myself with coffee.

Yesterday, C stayed at camp until 2pm. I got a call from the camp counselor at 1:45, right as I came in the door from my run with the dragonflies. Nothing major happened, he just was tired and weepy. I sat with him for a few minutes at the school entrance, and then we decided to go home and rest. I felt like it was a win, overall. Last night, the same counselor emailed me to see if I could share any strategies to help make C's trip to the water park today successful. I was extremely touched. I wrote her back, and this morning I quietly offered to meet the campers at the water park if they wanted another adult chaperone. The answer was an emphatic, Yes!

After drop off, I ran to and from home to meet the plumber, returned to the school to hand-deliver the medicine C forgot to finish, and drove to the doctor's for my annual physical. Rapid fire questions and answers with my new provider. She seems nice enough but was all business, and I was in and out, boobs checked (oh wow, you DO have dense breast tissue), weighed, blood pressured, etc, in 30 minutes. Oh, and she diagnosed me with a perforated ear drum, so apparently I need to go to the ear nose & throat doctor.

I hadn't found the time to shower before things got crazy, so I threw back on last night's underwear and whatever I grabbed from my bottom drawer and raced to the car. Off to the water park. At this point the overwhelm burst over the retaining wall and washed over me. I still managed to pull over en route to do my med check via telehealth. The conversation with my psychiatrist went something like this:

Dr: How is everything?

Me: Oh fine, I'm just having an anxiety attack and there's a hole in my eardrum and the Zoloft may manage my OCD but its side effects are a major bummer.

Dr: But you're managing?

Me: I guess so. My midlife crisis is marginally under control and I still don't have a job but that's good I suppose because C needs my support with camp. Overall, I don't currently feel like yeeting myself into the ocean like Edna Pontellier in The Awakening.

Dr: (Crunching on a chip) Ok, great, see you in 6 weeks!

I hadn't told the kids I was chaperoning, so they were surprised to see me at the water park. C was thrilled. He kept proudly introducing me to everyone. This was my demonstration of love for the day: I walked, barefoot, through a water park teeming with school children, up concrete stairs that smelled like piss, to go down a pitch black, twisty slide that made me almost toss the two perogies I scarfed down on the drive. It was disgusting and I kept thinking about foot fungus and UTI's and my perforated ear drum while I tried to breathe through my mouth. I wouldn't have traded it for anything, though, because C's little voice rang with laughter as I screamed behind him on the double inner tube. I pretended I didn't know what he was doing as he positioned me directly under the timed dump tank and feigned surprise when I was doused.

And oh, what comfort I felt in my swim shorts and full-coverage tankini top. Afterward, while everyone was changing out of swimsuits and into dry clothes, I noticed a very long line snaking out of the locker room. Everyone, including the teen counselors with their thong bathing suits, was too shy to change in the open locker room and opted for the bathroom stalls. I walked straight past them, dumped my stuff on the bench, and proceeded to get undressed with zero discomfort. After you have two children, modesty no longer holds the same glow. I even proudly pulled on my wireless beige bralette that probably looks like a training bra or something you'd wear after surgery. Voila!

I noticed that C got tired around 3pm, but after a brief crying spell he recovered fairly well. He rode home with me in the car while his sister took the bus. It was a successful day, and C participated with minimal accommodations. And now I'm going to try to bring the beat down to at least 200bpms. It probably won't happen, because it's time to feed the children and start the bedtime process, but I must stay optimistic. At least I took a good, long shower.