So that's what I did. I piled on, making myself feel as miserable as possible. And it was a Monday - the perfect day of the week for misery. I sat on the train on my ride home from work just sulking, all these real and perceived things weighing me down. My plan was to get home, do as little as possible to get the family fed, and then go to bed. Just lay in bed and wallow in what I couldn't change.
At home, I parked in the driveway and slumped out of the car. Above me, I heard a rapping at the window. I looked up and there was my son, knocking and waving. And smiling. It was a smile that was so wide and infectious that it made me smile back. And for that night, that was all it took. It didn't change anything that was wrong. It didn't fix the things I want to fix. It was just a smile, that lit up my night. And changed my mind about my plans that night.
Instead of going to bed, I played games with my son. We cuddled. And later that night, as he lay beside me in bed watching TV he said, "Mom, I wish my legs were longer."
"Why?" I asked. "So you could be taller?"
"No, so I could do this," he said as he extended out his legs, then tried to fold them back behind his head.
I looked at him and we both laughed. Hysterical, silly laughter. And it's just what I needed. That little face in the window.