Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

But it’s perfectly okay to cry over a bag of lettuce.

Right?

Wait. What?

Yes, I guess it’s time I let you know I’m not perfect. Haha! I totally cried about a bag of packaged lettuce. Don’t stop reading, I need someone to hear this, and if you’ve cried over something weird, I hope you’ll tell me. We’re human and our emotions can shock us all, in the most odd times. My time was in my kitchen while I was serving meatloaf and potatoes and waiting for my husband to come home from the store with my bag of salad.

I cried about lettuce.  It was simply just the wrong bag of lettuce and for some reason it made me feel helpless. It’s not that I was that disappointed about not having the salad I wanted for dinner, I like veggies, but I am not that committed, and it’s not that I’m an over grown baby either. It was just one too many things at the end of that day, including how someone had done the dishes “weird” and how I never made it to Costco that day. All life altering horrendous let-downs, right?

I sat down on my kitchen floor, holding what was apparently the most disappointing bag of lettuce mix ever, and I cried gut-wrenching, cry till you’re exhausted, cathartic sobs of pure, honest sadness.

It wasn’t about the lettuce…probably. Maybe a tiny bit it was, but it was just one more little thing added to a mountain of other little things that made me feel like all was lost. Lettuce.

The mountain of things had built up to the gargantuan size of Mount Everest, in my mind, and it was too much to bear. It was insurmountable.

Friends, it is okay to cry about lettuce. I know this because it felt really, really good to get it all out, or at least get it started.

Two days later, as I explained this to two very understanding girlfriends, I felt ridiculous retelling it to them. One of them, my next door neighbor who has an equal appreciation for off-beat sense of humor and sarcasm said, “Damn lettuce. I cried last week because the receptionist at the dentist office wasn’t nice, or so it seemed to me. I feel you. Let it out, that’s what I say.”

See, I’m not alone. She at least knew how evil that lettuce was. And I think we all need friends who know our real lows, because friends are just like marriages, or should be, but with non-legal binding commitments. I don’t want my friends to know I’m only laughing all day, nor do I want friends who can’t tolerate my lows, because I need someone who gets that my life can be real craptastic somedays, and who might be better to vent to than my hubby sometimes. If I’m venting about the hubby, I’m sure he’d rather me talk to a friend anyway. I want to laugh uncontrollably with you, but I do love a good crying jag or scream session, too. It’s good for the soul.

When stuff like this happens it’s funny to see who you turn to and who responds. Those two girlfriends? They each insisted I go out with them on Saturday night. Even after I explained to them that I couldn’t remember the last time I showered or changed my clothes, and they both said that was exactly why I needed to go.

One of them said by text, “I see beyond that” (about my lack of shower) and “I don’t want to self invite myself to your house but I can bring wine and we can just hang out, watch a movie. I’m not a big fan of just showing up on people’s doorsteps,” but she assured me she would if I didn’t make escape plans.

We ended up at Starbucks and spent some quality telling each other about the really inane things that had been getting to us lately, the ways we’d kind of given up, how jerky our kids and hubbies have been, and hilarious ways that I needed to write about them. It just felt good to hear that their houses are full of issues and let downs, in addition to the good, which somehow leveled the playing field. Not that I want my friends to be miserable, but the isolating feeling of thinking you’re the only one on Facebook whose kid is failing at school, or having an autistic fit everyday, or that you’re losing control of your life, can be suffocating. I have been drowning lately, and I cannot feel like that anymore.

I think social media is great and I love to see my friends accomplishments and joys, but it also can dig at you if you think you’re the only one who’s not having a great day/week/month/life, etc. And if you’re not great about keeping close friends, which we sometimes do as busy mamas, you just don’t know who to tell what to.

I’m glad I cried over lettuce. (I may have exposed myself on FB about it, too, as I’m apt to be brutally honest about sucky life moments there on more than one occasion) When I publicly lost it, my friends saw it and took care of me, made me laugh, helped me cry, let me know I wasn’t ridiculous, validated me, and made me get out of my house. If crying over lettuce can do all that, it’s proof that veggies are good for you.

Eat your veggies. Talk to your friends.

And thanks to my ladies who truly understood just how normal that is.

P.S. I did shower and change my clothes before I went, so for that they are welcome, too.

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4 thoughts on “Don’t Cry Over Spilled Milk

  1. I loved this! I too have had similar experiences, the most recent being when i cried at the grocery store over getting the wrong juice. … it was the cashiers kindness in telling me it was ok to run back real quick for a swap that had me bawling like a baby by the time i got to my car.. oh goodness!

  2. Once upon a time I was having a really bad bout of PMT (PMS) and was feeling really rubbish. My then boyfriend (now husband) offered to make me a sandwich because he could see I was having a bad time. I cried. Lots. He just sort of stood their, looking confused and didn’t know what to do.

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