Snowcoasters, nakedness, and ms wichawds

I remember a Sunday dinner at my mom’s house where her old college roommates came over and we sat around and talked and I think I laughed harder that night than I ever have in my entire life. My mom has some pretty dang cool friends, 2 of them used to be her roommates and I was probably 13 years old before I realized that they were 2 separate people who had 2 separate names. “Marilynbetty” was actually “Merilyn –n-Betty”.

As a side note, I love words like that. A nice lady in my ward said she remembers her son asking her what a “shamenno” was because when they’d sing primary songs they always sang “by this shamenno (shall men know) ye are my disciples.

Anyway, MerilynBetty were the coolest people I knew. They were roommates with each other, and both were teachers in the Jordan School District. Merilyn was a principal and Betty was a history teacher/student council person. This particular Sunday they were sharing stories of the outrageous awkward student moments when they really just didn’t know what to do with their students.

Merilyn talked about one mentally challenged student in her school who found it freeing to remove all of his clothing, and this was not a small person. One afternoon, they followed the trail of clothing out into the middle of the street, where they found him sitting Indian style, rocking back and forth, fumbling with his hands in a small rubbing motion, saying over and over again “Ms. Richards. Ms Richards. Nathan hurt my feelings. He hurt my feelings Ms. Richards.” The sentence isn’t as funny unless you hear somebody say it, but the R’s were W’s, the “th” was a “f”, and the words came out in varying speeds. So it sounded more like “ms.wichawds, ms.wichawds! ….. nafun-huwt my feewings.” She somehow talked him back into the building and back into his clothes for which we were all thankful. Please don’t think me inconsiderate for laughing, but at the time it was a hilarious story. While we were by no means making fun of this poor boy, or making light of his hardships, the mental picture we found was hilarious.

This story naturally lead to one of my all time favorite breakdown stories. A friend of mine had one of those mom’s a superman mom. She worked during the day, made cookies before her kids got home from school, was RS President in her ward, PTA leader lady, Room mother, and always looked well kept. She was always nice to everyone she saw and everybody counted her as a good friend. One day, her teenage daughter came home and found her rocking back and forth, muttering something about dinner, naked in a snowcoaster (you know those plastic round sled things? Snowcoasters?). This phrase “naked in a snowcoaster” has become my families catch phrase meaning that we’re emotionally unwell. We’ve snapped and we just can’t handle anything anymore.

I’ve often wondered how old I’ll be when someone finds me naked in a snowcoaster. This week I was borderline snowcoaster crazy. On Wednesday at work I truly felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn’t focus on anything, I’d re-read the same simple e-mail 3 times before fully understanding it, I couldn’t remember what I’d already done and what I hadn’t. I couldn’t look at a list of things to do and work through them. I’d walk upstairs to the printer and not remember why I was there. I seriously felt like I had lost it.

Josh made me drive home (he does this because by the time he comes to get me he’s usually been driving in rush hour traffic for an hour and the thoughts of any more of that make him sick. So I drive because I love him, and he asks me to because he doesn’t want us to die on our way home. On the way I started crying and couldn't stop. I seriously thought I was going crazy, and I'm inclined to say that Josh didn't disagree. He patiently taught me how to breath (I do this really annoying thing when I panic where I stop breathing...purely out of choice...100% mental instability) and held my hand and tried to make me sane. When we got home I just got worse. I took one look at my house and realized that no matter how hard I tried, no matter how long I lived, my house would never be good enough, my laundry would never be caught up, I would never work enough hours, cook enough dinners or wash enough dishes. I would never be OK. And that's an overwhelming thought, so I freaked out some more. I cried and breathed and breathed and cried. Josh went to school and I tried to do anything productive, but it wasn't pretty.

Thursday morning was like the biggest hangover of all time. Have you ever had a crying breakdown hangover? I have no idea what a real hangover is like, but if it's anything like that, I don't know why people drink. I called in sick and spent the day watching "The Office" (Which I am now 100% addicted to) and cooking and cleaning and tying ribbons on my Christmas presents. I now have all of the presents wrapped, tied, and ready for Christmas. But I'm still behind at work, laundry, church, and the rest of life. Thursday was a much needed day of rest and relaxation.

Poor Josh, who is doing 1 1/2 routes this week for work preparing for finals next week, going to his normal classes, starting his weekend clinics, putting up other people's Christmas lights, and truly not even setting foot inside our house between the hours of 8:00 and 11:30 pm. When he gets home he studies for a while, tries to find food, and sleeps. I feel bad for him, and can't wait for Christmas break from school and our trip to Oregon, he needs some time off, that's for sure! As for me, next week I'm going to try to work all day every day and have zero emotional breakdowns. Wish me luck!