"This Song Scares Me"

I just sent off my last custom order today.

For weeks, I had been sewing every spare moment I could squeeze in among:

a vacation at the beach
a virulent bout with the stomach flu (my whole family)
a stuffy head and fever (me and Brooke)
every day life

After I collapsed in relief with the last stitch, I called Bruce and asked him to pick up Celeste from school and take her to gymnastics. I was drugged up on Sudafed. He heard it in my voice and quickly agreed. Later, he brought home dinner from the yummy taqueria "Carnitas Michoacan". He looked at me affectionately and gave me a hug.

"You're stressed." He said. He had brought my favorite drink: Horchata.

Stress manifests itself in me in destructive ways. It's either my hair - I go bald - or my immune system - I catch every virus that comes through the pike.

It's not the sewing that stresses me out. It's the time management. Or lack of. Emme wanted me to help her with a puzzle today. I couldn't because I had to get this last dress out. It was 3 days late. I had to finish. "That's okay mom." she said. "I'll wait until you're done."

She smiled and finished the puzzle herself.