Szyperski: Week in reviewWritten by Shannon Szyperski | | firstname.lastname@example.org
I’ve just had one of the most physically, mentally and emotionally grueling weeks of my adult life. I suppose I should revel in the fact that I made it through in one piece, especially since some of the craziness was based in opportunity rather than misfortune. Still, it was just one of those weeks that, good or bad, was way too much. The good news about weeks that are way too much, however, is that they involve a tremendous chance for comic fodder.
My 7-year-old daughter is struggling with going to school (file under “reason No. 1 for hard week”). She doesn’t really have a “thing” that is hers plus she could use some techniques for focus and relaxation, so I decided to have her try yoga. Honestly, it was just nice to have the chance to sit down for 45 minutes, especially since I was struggling myself with an annoying bout of bronchitis.
There was a pleasant atmosphere, just the right mix of serene beauty and giggling girls. Since I had my other two children in tow, there was thankfully a barrier sheltering the yoga tranquility from our family’s chaotic reality. My son Jack and I sat on the chairs-and-water-cooler side while my daughters delved into the world of yoga a few feet away on the other.
Jack quickly decided he was starving and that his sisters’ yoga class wasn’t exactly where he wanted to spend his Tuesday afternoon. I was thankful to have the wall of privacy to hide behind while curbing his crabbiness with a series of silent, but not-so-subtle hand gestures and facial expressions. The hand gestures and facial expressions then crossed over from convenience to necessity when I suddenly went into a full-blown itch-in-my-throat, need-to-cough-like-you-wouldn’t-believe sinus drainage attack.
As the class was learning to breathe deeply on one side of the partition, I fought to breathe at all on the other side, unwilling to let the cough monster completely loose. As the yoga class noobs, I really didn’t want our first impression to be a disruptive coughing fit. I motioned for Jack to grab me a cup of water and was eventually able to clear my pipes enough to catch my breath. Crisis averted.
Actually, the crisis was only momentarily averted, as my mucus monsoon decided to then take the traditional route out my nose instead. I frantically scanned the area for tissues but quickly ran out of time. Comforted by the knowledge that no one other than my own kin would have to be exposed to my last-ditch, primal mucus defense, I turned the corner of my shirt and sheepishly wiped my nose.
Soon after, my 3-year-old decided to spin the wheel o’ fun and started making a name for herself on the yoga side of the room. I chased after her animated little self and ended up face-to-face with something even more menacing. The seemingly opaque privacy divider I had put so much faith in was actually quite transparent from the other side. My wall of hidden exploits was, in reality, a wall of shame.
My semi-shameful, semi-hilarious feats didn’t stop at yoga. By Thursday morning I was done with the sniffling, coughing, no rest thing and headed to the doctor. Halfway there it occurred to me that I had forgotten to address a most important matter that morning. I’m not sure what you call it, as there are a slew of choice terms: “that time of the month,” “aunt flo,” “crimson tide,” you get my drift. It wasn’t even the end, like day four or five. Nope, I was smack dab in the beginning of it and just plum forgot.
I decided to drown my how-much-more-can-I-take sorrows in a cup of chai while I awaited my prescription being filled. I’m really not one to spend $4.95 on a specialty drink; yet, I decided my rough week and a $5 gift card were reason enough to make an exception.
I hesitated right up until the point of order to use the whole gift card on one drink, but sometimes you just have to live a little and let the gift card fly.
Unfortunately, what I attempted to let fly was a rewards card. That’s right; I didn’t actually have the gift card with me, just a rewards card I mistook it for. Oh, well. $4.95 out of my pocket will come and go, but funny stories are forever.
Shannon Szyperski and her husband, Michael, are raising three children in Sylvania. Email her at email@example.com.