A story about stress.

I don't consider myself to be the stressful type. It takes a lot to get me flustered. Tuesdays and Thursdays are always a little extra crazy around our house because Tuesday and Thursday nights are my hair nights. Due to the fact that the only place I can wash my client's hair is in the upstairs bathroom and my salon is down in the basement, this means Tuesdays and Thursdays the WHOLE stinkin house has to be clean. The entry way bathroom, because hair clients always have to pee. The upstairs bathroom, because if I'm doing a color it's going to require rinsing. The salon, because it can get mighty hairy down there. The living room and kitchen, because inevitably clients always walk in there to take a peek. Then, Matt is on mommy duty Tuesday and Thursday nights so I try to make it as easy on him as possible. Get dinner ready, give him the attention every husband deserves after a long day at work, etc. Sooooo, Tuesday and Thursday=busy days for me.
Today seemed especially crazy. I was scrubbing my house from top to bottom from the time I got out of bed. Chase NEVER stopped whining and complaining in all of that time. Makes me nuts. I was watching my friend Leah's 1 year old while she was at the Dr's office. (Love her little boy. And Hallie LOOOVES to play Mommy to him.) Had to sew elastic onto Hallie's ballet shoes. Had to get Hallie to ballet with two toddlers napping (thank you husband). Had to get in my work out (back on the 30 day shred). Had to take a shower (this seemed impossible today for some reason).
Before I knew 4:30 had rolled around and I had a hair apt arriving in 30 minutes. Then Matt called.
"Hey Sara, I was playing football with the guys from the squadron when we got called off the field and back into work. They told us we're leaving for Trapani (Sicily/Italy) in 2 hours for a few days to help monitor the airspace in Europe. They're getting all kinds of ash from the Volcano that erupted in Iceland. I've got to come home, pack, and get back to the base right away. I'm REALLY sorry about this."
I'm speechless. For a minute. "But Matt, I've got 3 hair appointments tonight." Then I tell him I'll talk to him when he gets home. I hang up and start to feel the stress making my heart rate increase. I don't know how many of you are hair dressers, but trying to do highlights and a bunch of haircuts with a two year old saying "Hold me Mommy! Hold me!" and a four year old telling me how her brother has managed to hurt her (either bodily or mentally) every five mintues is pretty much impossible. I call my friend Leah and she gladly offers to take the kids tonight while I have my appointments.
Matt gets home and it's a mad rush to pack. He can tell I'm on the verge of stress induced tears and keeps stopping what he's doing to hug me and kiss me. It's not his fault. I'm not mad at him. I'm mad at that blasted Volcano in freakin Iceland. I need time to prepare for his trips, this whole 1 hour warning doesn't work for me.
My first hair apt arrives as I'm making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the kids (for dinner, fancy). She is so nice and chats with the kids while I finish up. She and I head down stairs to get started on her hair and I just hope everything that needs to get done on the floor above me gets done. We chat away happily (trying to bring down my blood pressure) when Matt comes down and plops himself on the couch. I think to myself, "how sweet. He just wants to spend his last few minutes with me before he has to go." We keep chatting and Matt joins in on the conversation.
After 5 or 10 minutes of talking there's a lull in the conversation. Matt pipes up with, "I got a phone call from work, they cancelled the trip. I don't have to go." I think he's kidding, because he's been sitting on the couch chatting for 10 MINUTES and hasn't mentioned this LITTLE tidbit of information. I stop and turn, "are you kidding?" He tells me "Nope, they cancelled it."
My mouth drops open, then the mouth diarrhea starts coming. "You mean to tell me you've know your trip has been cancelled while you've been sitting here chatting for the last TEN MINUTES and you're just NOW telling me?? What is wrong with you??" He laughs (because he's sooooo funny) and I tell him to please go tell poor, 8 months pregnant, Leah that she won't be needing to watch our kids after all. After he walked out my hair client said, "Isn't that just a MAN thing to do?" Psht, amen to that. Seriously, 10 minutes? Good thing he had American Idol ready and waiting for me when my hard nights work was over.