Tag Archives: flat tire

On Such A Winter’s Day

My day started out like any other typical day. No it didn’t. It started with me almost making my child go to school because I didn’t believe her that her stomach hurt. But, luckily, she starting puking right before I made her put on her uniform. That was a super close mom fail. I almost sent my very sick kid to school. Bless her heart. She continued to puke on and off through the morning then fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

While she was sleeping I decided to try and clean up my room, something someone with ADD is always trying to do but never fully accomplishing. Ever.

As I was attempting this clean up, I glanced out my window at the cold rainy day and thought about how much I dislike cold days. Oh how much I really dislike cold, rainy days. Then something strange happened next. I didn’t go into a weird depressing funk. I had one of those moments where I was so thankful that God was present in my life and showing me progress.

Instead of getting all mopey about my puking kid and the cold wet day I thought about my friend Cyndi. Cyndi loves cold days. The colder the better. I think they remind her of her home, of her childhood in Chicago. I think they take her back to a place in her heart where she had less pain. So I stood there thinking about Cyndi and I was truly happy for her to have this weather. The very weather that I hate and the very weather that actually takes my hermit prone self and catapults it into full seasonal depression makes her happy. I was glad it was a win for her.

So I had a little Mary Poppins moment and was celebrating my victory of coping well, and then this:

Then I went to get my other daughter from school and I got a flat tire.

A FLAT TIRE. The horror. Girls hate flat tires. At least this girls does. Makes me feel helpless.

This is where my attempt to remain positive would for sure have ended before. A flat tire! How could the world possibly go on while I’m stranded with a flat tire.

People, I am a horrible coper. My doctor says I’m one of the worst copers she has ever seen. When she professionally delivered this opinion to me I wanted to be defensive, like geez, I’m just sensitive, what’s so wrong with that?

Hi, my name is Mindy and I am a bad coper.

What does that mean? I fall apart easily. Like when it’s hot or when it’s cold or when the dishes don’t get done, or when my emails come in too fast. I get anxious when I have to plan a birthday party for my kids, or when I have to cook dinner (I know, so pathetic). So a cold day, puking and a flat tire could possibly be a lethal combo. I just can’t deal.

But I’m a recovering bad coper. I recently admitted that this was a problem. After several friends, family, and doctors pointed this out, I had no choice but to admit my weakness. This is how I was made, but I could change.

Sometimes it’s good to be sensitive. But sometimes you’ve got to buck up and deal with life. I need to stop being such a cry baby. I need to learn to dig a little deeper and to turn to God a lot faster and ask Him for help and perspective.

Perspective is helpful. I remembered that the events of my day are first world problems. I remembered my friends who are dealing with bigger problems, like losing loved ones. I remembered that my kids would stop puking and my car would be fixed and I would go home to my warm house where I would use my smartphone and go to my favorites contacts which holds my best friends and family’s phone numbers and the pizza place and I would speed dial Palio’s and order pizza and my husband would pick it up on the way home from buying new tires (me calmly ignoring the fact that we didn’t have the money for that).

Yep. And then I would make this video for my sister in Cali because her kids won’t stop crying. One of my newest coping mechanisms is to make videos for my sister and text them to her. I might make it a feature on my blog, I know you’re so excited.

One day I will tell you funny stories about my older sister, the over achiever coper. She copes too well. Her house could burn to the ground before her eyes and she would be like, “it’s fine” and start making her list of things she needed to do in order to rebuild her house.

We all cope differently. I hope to keep improving my coping abilities. And then I will go back to my doctor and and tell her what’s what.