I broke

It happened.  I broke.  It started as a little crack.  Like a chip in your car windshield from a rock.  That little crack got bigger and bigger.  Wider and longer.  It spider webbed across the windshield.  And then it shattered.  I shattered.

I yelled, I hurled my phone at my windshield, and I started crying.  Then I apologized.

It was over the dumbest thing too.  The navigation on my phone wasn't working and Parker wanted something to eat that wasn't hospital food.  He hadn't eaten the entire day of surgery or the day after surgery except for a few bites of an apple.  I was desperate to find him something that he couldn't resist.  But I have no idea where anything is in this town.

I had been proud of myself.  Up until surgery day, I had held it together for the most part.  Sure I've cried.  A lot.  But that was different.  I could control when I cried.  I could hold it together until I was in the shower or at least out of sight.  I hadn't snapped.  I hadn't let it get to me like I did this time.  I couldn't control it this time.  My tank was full.  My phone not working was the small drop that made it overflow. 

I was embarrassed the minute it happened.  My mom was sitting next to me in the car.  I immediately apologized. 

But the weirdest thing happened.  I felt better.  I needed to scream.  I needed to get it out. 

I’m writing this because I took on a role when my son was diagnosed.  I took on the role of Super Mom.  I wanted to show how strong I was.  I wanted to inspire people.  All while being a good example for Parker.  But alas, I’m not perfect. 

I learned that I’m not Superwoman.  I’m Kristin.  All I can do is my best.  And my best is ok.

I made it to my destination that day.  Parker ate a chicken strip and a few french fries, and with every bite I started to feel better.

The next day I realized something that wasn't going to be easy though.  Parker needed to break.