Every week day morning I do my usual. I get up at 6:00 a.m. I pack my kids school lunch bag....Take a shower....Get dressed...Wake my husband..then finally head out the door for work. I take a five minute ride to the train station. In silence. Since the car radio of my 2003 Chevy Impala conked out just about a month ago. I've adjusted though to the peaceful quiet tranquility of a weekday morning.
But my 6 and 8 year old boys haven't. They plead with me just about every car ride to "buy a new car mom" or remind me of how "this car is really old." I do a great job ignoring them. It's not their fault they're clueless to the world of mortgage, gas, electric and the giNormous grocery bill. They'll eventually learn one day.
During my usual morning journey to the train station, however, I get a strange pit in my stomach. An icky panicky feeling that I force myself to shake. By the time I sit on the train the icky-panicky feeling increases.
My hands are sweaty. My head starts to spin. I say a quick prayer "please Lord don't let me have a panic attack on this train..with these strange people....these same strange people I have to see again tomorrow..I can't change my work hours.. Oh please Lord?...In Jesus name I pray."
The icky-panicky pit in my stomach subsides of course. After I realize I'm having side effects of a case of Monday morning.
T.D. Giddens, Author
Www.tdgiddensauthor.com
