Ball of nerves

Friends, I'm a hot mess today as we are waiting to hear about pre-school admission. I know that may sound absurd, but around here, such is reality for lots of folks this time of year. I attempted to seek some zen by going to a rigorous yoga class this morning. My over-stimulated mind couldn't quite become one with my breath so I left ten minutes early in the hopes that today was one of those on which the mail comes ridiculously early instead of curiously late. As I'm still glued to my front window and have refused to leave the house since returning home at 11:15, today was, obviously, not the former. At first I thought I was merely curious, just ready to know one way or the other about where my little Ol will be next school year. However, during yoga I found myself both competitive and frustrated which is a horrible, silly combo in any situation but particularly one in which you are (supposed to be) your own little island of tolerance and respect. Your practice is your own, and everyone else's should be neither here nor there. This projection and subsequent realization was my first clue that curiosity was not the most accurate word for the sensation coursing through my body. Nope, friends, that would be nerves. Plain and simple. I am a gigantic ball of myopic anxiety. My insides feel like an overcharged battery just begging for the jumper cables to be removed.

Because I have been stationed on my living room couch for so long now, I can tell you that I have spied our postman and know he'll probably be here within the hour. I saw him across the way, heading north, emptying his bag of deliveries with patience and calm. It took some restraint not to tell out from my front stoop, "Yoo-hoo, Mr. Postman, PLEASE COME OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!" T would have been mortified and I'm trying model sanguine behavior for Jack.

I don't think it's working. I will say that J tested for his purple belt today, passed and was also awarded his first-ever trophy. We are very proud of our cutie!