When I feel like this, all I want is to be alone.
Which is hard when you're a mom to small-ish kids. My son's desires do not lessen on the days I'm feeling Too Much. Rather, he wants me more, wants to understand why I'm acting like a different lady, wants to help but doesn't know how and so just demands over and over again that we play baseball.
And so we go outside into the cool, muggy air and we play. I throw underhand, he throws over. I catch and he catches. My palm stings when I catch - his throws are not weak. There is nothing weak about this child. I am thankful for this.
He wants to bat. He gets his blue batting helmet and his made-to-order wooden bat from the porch. He hits line drives and foul tips. In between pitches, we pump our arms up and down at the passing town dump trucks. Every man driving frantically finds something to honk, and then smiles at us as we cheer and hoot.
I wave a thank you to each of them, and turn.