Today was supposed to be a Girls Day Out.
My two daughters and I had a lazy morning at home, eating breakfast and watching cartoons in our PJs. We had tickle fights, played, and sang songs together. I leisurely got myself ready for the day as the older one brushed her hair and got dressed. The most stressful moment of the morning was convincing the two-year-old that the white butterfly clip I wanted to put in her hair would not hurt her head. Finally, with hair fixed and shoes on (which is quite a task), we were ready to head out to the car.
All I needed to do was find my keys.
I’m not sure how much time passed before I realized they were not here. My guess is that they are in the other car, the one that my husband drove today that is now parked 15 miles away. He is on a Daddy-Son outing and won’t return until tonight.
No more Girls Day Out.
This really shouldn’t be a big deal. At least, not as big as it felt to me. I’ve always dealt poorly with forced spontaneity. When plans change quickly, I feel unsettled and disjointed. And because I’ve walked away from Facebook, I have been feeling more isolated and disconnected from the outside world, so I was really looking forward to being out with real people and socializing. Not to mention the fact that these special days are something we have taught our kids to highly value. I had talked up our Day Out with our seven-year-old, and now, I had to cancel.
As all of these thoughts came rushing into my mind, I cried. As much as I knew this would soon pass, that the girls would base their reaction on my lead, and that the day could easily be salvaged, I needed a moment to grieve the plans that would never happen. So, I whispered a couple swear words and tears fell.
But, here is where I was surprised: I immediately felt like I needed to share the negative experience on Facebook, and I was frustrated that I could not do so because of my commitment to stay away from the site for 99 days.
I wonder why??
Do I need permission to feel sad?
Someone to give me a new perspective on the situation?
Virtual pats on the shoulder to tell me everything will be okay?
This realization threw me. Am I scared to feel emotion alone?
The girls and I are resetting the day. The relatives we were traveling to see are on their way here. We may spend time making something special in the kitchen today, and I think my grade-schooler and I will play a much-loved board game during the toddler’s nap.
I may take a couple pictures, but with the intent of preserving the memories of the day, not sharing them instantly with friends online.