I Dropped the Hearts of Palm

I don't know about you, but the hearts of palm was what I was most looking forward to in my make-your-own-salad-salad-bar we served at a family gathering the other day. I love hearts of palm, and I had sliced and diced the entire mega-jar of them. 

The bowl was covered and they were placed carefully into the refrigerator along with all the other salad toppings. One opening of the fridge door - and that was it for the hearts of palm.... And the bowl that was holding them. 

And I just started bawling... And swearing.  David had to come help. I couldn't bend down. The already excruciating pain I had running down my leg exploded. I started to hyperventilate. I got dizzy. I had to go sit down. 

It passed quickly. Was that a panic attack? My first panic attack was over hearts of palm?!? 

It was my mountain piling over. We all have our mountains, and - as high or low as they may be - you never know what will make it come crumbling down. 

I regrouped, made a spectacular salad, and am still ever so greatful that someone (David) was there to help me pick up the pieces - literally and figuratively. 

Ooops!

It's summer break. It's 10:37 a.m. I have been up for hours. I left for the grocery store. One child was up and went back to sleep. One was reading in her bed. Two were still asleep. 

Didn't I tell her I was leaving? Didn't I stick my note on the door to my bedroom? I have several pre-written notes: "hiking", "out walking", "be back soon".  

And then I get a call:  "Mommy?!?"  "Where are you?! We've looked all over for you. We can't find you in the house."

Oops! Thankful I have a teenager - or two - at home and I didn't leave my children 'home alone'.

*HUGS*

I hate to admit this - I was annoyed yesterday by the amount of hugs incoming sixth (I had to change that as I wrote fifth grade at first) grade boy was asking for. I'm not a person who needs a lot of physical attention - at least I didn't think I was. 

Sixth grade boy does. He is a snuggler. Rub his head and he melts like butter. As he wakes up in the morning, he needs a touch of the hand. I always say he needs help coming down from the heavens each morning. And he likes his hugs - every time he passes you in the house; when he leaves for school; when he sees you AT school - lots of hugs. 

I KNOW. I should relish in that and cherish that and stand for 15 minutes with him in a hugging embrace. And, now, perhaps, I will. 

But yesterday, I was annoyed and impatient. I even considered that he was in the midst of some Freudian-love-for-mother phase. I offer my apologies to the goddess of peace and calm and all that is right in the world. 

Listening to Sara Gottfried this morning (hormonal expert and - yes - the peri-menopausal stuff is really happening), I was reminded of a good friend - oxytocin.  Oxytocin is the 'love' hormone. While it is released during labor and helps the uterus contract, it is also released when you hug someone. 

Hugging someone and raising your oxytocin levels not only makes you feel good - it lowers your cortisol levels. Cortisol is a hormone released by the adrenals in response to stress or your perception of stress. When you raise your  oxytocin, you decrease your cortisol and subsequently find yourself at your happy place. 

So, today, I'll focus on giving and getting those hugs. No half-assed, quick hip hugs - but the full embrace! ( personal space invasion accepted with joy)