The scene:  Tuesday evening at the Mendell household.  Dad and Noah enter stage left, walk through the kitchen and peer into the family room.

Noah:  Why is Mom lying on the floor?

Dad:  I think she may have hit the wall.

Noah:  The dog is lying on top of her.

Dad:  Good dog.

If you are a Type A maniac like me, every now and again people will say to you, “I don’t know how on earth you do it all!  How do you work and blog and write and take care of the kids and walk the dog and volunteer at the school and work out and entertain and blah, blah, blah … without totally losing it??”

The answer is:  I don’t.  I lose it.  Like clockwork every two months or so, I curl up into the fetal position and begin speaking in a language that only my husband and my mother can understand.  There is no exact translation into English but my blabbering equates to something like:  Stop the treadmill.  The list hurts me.  I need oatmeal.

At that point, Dave formally grants me permission to skip my workout and stay off the computer for the night.  He then sends me to bed where I can not harm myself or the children.   Often I cry myself to sleep only to wake up the next morning refreshed and slightly embarrassed for my behavior the night before.   I am cured for at least 8 weeks.  Dr. Geoff refers to this type of episode as “reactive acute depression.”  I prefer something more technical:  The Mommy Meltdown. 

Not unlike the excuses I make for my children when they are not entirely on their game, I also get tired to the point where I stop functioning.  We all do.  I highly recommend the bi-monthly Mommy Meltdown for its effectiveness and efficiency.  Just remember the kiddos aren’t the only ones who, every now and then, need a little time out.  

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