https://wordsofwomennewsletter.ghost.io/the-christmas-card/
I got my first Christmas card last week.
I retrieved it after a rough morning. I was running around the house, trying to get everything for my errand run before loading the girls in the car for their last day of daycare before winter break (12 days). “Can you just watch them for two minutes. I need to get the cards for the teachers and the Amazon stuff to return at Whole Foods.”
“We can do Whole Foods on the weekend!”
“But I’m going to be right there. Why can’t I just do it now?”
“Because!” he screamed, his face contorting into a one of a man I recognize but do not know. “You’re unorganized and selfish and preoccupied! You’re a brat!”
He was yelling the way he does when his rage is all-consuming. I backed away from him, yelling back. “Don’t scream at me!”
He backed off, but that rage was still there, simmering over. Ellie was crying. Emmy started crying. I picked them up, loaded them in the car and the moment I backed out of the driveway, I started crying.
“Why are you crying mommy?” asked Emmy
“Because,” I said. “Sometimes mommy’s cry.”
“Why?”
“Because, I said. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Because I never thought it would be like this. Because I promised myself I would never scream in front of my kids. Because my marriage, my career, everything feels like it’s unraveling.
“Why?”
“Because….The year has gotten away from me and I feel like my life is getting away from me.”
“Why?”
I asked her to just be a good girl so mommy could think.
When we got to the school, I wiped my eyes and carried them in. I dropped Ellie off, but her teacher wanted to talk. She has a cough, I said. But she doesn’t have a fever. What I was insinuating: I just need this one day. Please don’t call me and tell me to pick her up.
I cried all the way home. I cried at the ATM. I cried at the gas station. I cried after dropping off my last packages at UPS. When I pulled in the driveway, I braced myself. How was I brat for wanting to get the errands done? I couldn’t understand what he was so upset about. He was mad about stuff that wasn’t about the UPS and Whole Foods …I knew that.
The house was empty. Jay was in his office, working, avoiding me. There was an envelope on the kitchen counter. I didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. It was from an old friend from college. Her cards come clockwork every year.
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