Today at noon I am standing in my daughter's classroom crying while her teacher holds me.
Let's work backwards.
The taxes really aren't that big of a deal. I've been doing them for years. It's just that we normally get a nice big refund, so I perform my tax duties with a jaunty spirit. But, as you know, this year Uncle Sam is going to drive a fork through my hand instead, so I have understandably been putting this whole thing off. Not to mention, Chris and I are pretty fancy with multiple deductions and employment statuses between us.
Anyhoo, this morning I attempt to retrieve last year's taxes from the computer to get the bajillion categories we use every year so I can finish this mess off. But, wait! Chris got a new computer because the old one crashed three months ago! Watch me fling myself around the office wailing.
So, Chris, in his neverending effort to assuage me, races down to the garage to dig up all the old documentation, hoping it will help. Even though this does aid me slightly in this godforsaken project, I begin to rant about us not "being on the same page" financially and him not "holding up his end of the bargain" by helping me with tax time.
After poking Chris with a stick for a half hour, he finally snaps back. Whiiiich in turn makes me start to cry.
As you are so unfortunately aware, I've been feeling guilty lately about not working towards my goals and slacking on my responsibilities. So, now to lash out at Chris because of the stress of this tax crap just made me feel like I was really failing on all fronts.
So, imagine my delight when a half hour later S's teacher is telling me that she is "very concerned about S's homework" or lack thereof. She points me to a chart with every child's name on it. Every single name has about 10 gold stars next to it, indicating completed homework. My daughter's name has nothing next to it. Nada.
As I mumble an excuse about losing those little 2x2 scraps of paper called "homework" she begins to explain why it is so important that S. begin doing homework in a timely manner. You know, to make her more successful in life. And a better person.
Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I listen and nod. The recent tears are back with a vengeance. I try to look down at S. and help her with her coat, but it quickly becomes obvious to Mrs. Teacher that I am actually crying over this.
Then she does the worst thing possible. She starts to speak soothingly and hugs me. Which of course makes me stiffen like a cadaver.
Horribly. Awkward. Moment. Of. The. Year.
I swear I am not normally this emotional.
I'm actually much worse.