The curse of overreaction

            I’m pretty sure my birth was dramatic because I made it that way.  I have a knack for taking any situation and turning it on its ear.  It wouldn’t surprise me if I was dramatic on my first day of life.  I’ve certainly been that way every day since.

            When I had kids, my goal was to stop to stop freaking out all the time or at least to tone it down.  I certainly didn’t want them to be overreactive weirdos like myself.  But Teague is five and half years old and I can honestly say it hasn’t gotten much better as evidenced by the events of my afternoon.

            Today the heat index was between 105 and 110 degrees.  I still decided to brave the beach alone with the boys.  Everything was fine, initially.  We got a good parking spot.  I managed to carry our bag of snacks, drinks, towels, and changes of clothes all the way down to the water.  Teague carried the buckets of toys.  Oh, and I carried Crews as well.  When we finally reached the perfect spot and set up camp for the afternoon, I realized I’d left the sunscreen in the car.  This is where the fun begins.

Reaction #1: We should just go home.  If I have to walk all the way back to the car and carry my 2 year old, we should just leave.  So what if I paid $7 to park?  Screw it.  We’re going home.

Reaction #2: “Teague, leave the toys here.  If they get stolen I will buy you new ones.  But I can’t carry Crews, the bag, and the buckets of toys you are refusing to carry back to the car.  I’m sure they’ll be fine.”  Why the hell did I say that?  Now Teague is crying about potentially stolen toys?!

Reaction #3: (Lecturing Teague even though it’s really my fault the sunscreen is still in the car.)  “See Teague.  I told you we should put sunscreen on before we come to the beach.  Remember how I asked you to let me apply sunscreen at home but you said you wanted to do it at the beach?”  Once again, this isn’t helping the situation. 

We finally get slathered in sunscreen and schlep our way back over to the beach.  As we approach the water, Teague says, “But I don’t have my swimsuit on.”

Seriously, I had to bite my tongue and it took every ounce of strength to not pick both of them up and carry them to the car.  I was hot, tired, thirsty, and frustrated.

Then, Teague looks at me and says, “Mom, you know, it’s alright.  I’m not mad that you forgot the sunscreen.  It wasn’t so bad walking back to the car.”

And standing there in the 105 degree heat my heart melts.  I am a total overreactive freak and my five year old is consoling me!  We proceed to have a wonderful afternoon and I’m so proud of my kids for not being like me.

As we begin to drive off into the sunset for grilled cheeses and chocolate shakes, Teague absolutely loses his mind and starts screaming like someone is killing him.  He can’t fasten his seatbelt and clearly the world might end.

I calmly pull over and put the car in park realizing that he is just like me.  Lord help us all…