Incredibles 2

The Labor Day Stress

thomjohnson732 Comments

20180903_151824It started at Starbucks this afternoon. Pumpkin Spice is back on the menu. Amy’s signature drink: Grande, 2 pump Pumpkin Spice, 2 pump White Mocha, 2 pump Cinamon Dulce Latte. I ordered one. My heart had been in a numb funk all day. I thought the memory and the taste would perk things up; that is not what happened.

We’d gone to the Disney Store at the Outlets in Woodburn, Oregon because the boys had some money to burn. We looked around. I found a few things I couldn’t live without. Neither boy spent his money. We all smiled at the “Incredible Mom” cup and T-shirt. I thought of purchasing the cup for one of the “moms” who’s adopted my boys into her heart, but I couldn’t do it. Amy was my Mrs. Incredible. She could stretch to do so many things at once. I was the stressed out, stay-at-home dad (only 1 summer), who drove a small hatchback car when the first movie was released. My students swore Disney captured my story – taking a few creative liberties – and made a movie franchise! I put the cup back; I just couldn’t buy it. We left the store, purchased our Auntie Ann’s pretzels (a Woodburn Outlet tradition), and headed to find drinks. I dropped the boys off at Jamba Juice and headed to Starbucks.

Upon receiving my drink, I headed back to pick up the boys. From the moment they hopped in the car, the tenor of our day slid south. We couldn’t really figure out why. Everyone was just a little jumpy, nervous, irritable. Due to an accident ahead of us on the route home, our 30 min. drive became an hour and 20 mins. Needless to say, by the time we arrived home, we were needing some dinner and some alone time.

As the boys were getting ready for bed, I began busying myself with the chores of the house. I found myself checking the clock many times, but not really knowing why. Somewhere around 9:30 p.m., I realized what was wrong.

Today is Labor Day. Tomorrow is Tuesday, the beginning of my second week of school. Two years ago on Labor Day, I put a very nauseous Amy to bed, fed my kids dinner, and then busied myself about the house. When I woke in the morning, “Till death do us part” had become a reality.

I’ve spent the last hour hemming and hawing about the things that need to be done before tomorrow then chastising myself for worrying and picking up the fear God delivered me from six weeks before Amy passed away. It’s been a vicious cycle. The only way I know to break it is to admit that I’m in the crosshairs of fear, pray, ask God for peace, and then head to bed. Tomorrow will be another day. The actual anniversary of Amy’s death is Thursday; I’ve taken the day off work so I can deal with it for what it will be, and so that my students do not have to endure a numb, slightly frustrated teacher all day.

So, good night. I’m letting go of the fear so that God can take care of it for me. I pray I can fall asleep quickly and that my dreams are peaceful. Tomorrow is not a day to fear.

Incredible!

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Incredibles 2 poster 2

During the afternoon of November 6, 2004, on a Choir Retreat with my students from Heritage Christian School, a car pulled up to the lodge where we were staying and out poured four of my recently graduated students. Having been on the choir retreat in prior years, the students knew where we were staying. They were giddy and began yelling, looking for me.

“Mr. Johnson! We just watched you on the big screen!”

After calming them down, I learned they had seen The Incredibles the night before. And they’d driven out just to tell me about it.

“Have you seen it yet, Mr. Johnson?”

“You’ve got to see it, Mr. Johnson!”

“We swear; we were watching you! Especially the car scene.”

“Don’t ruin it for me,” I chided them, chuckling a bit.

When Amy and I saw the movie, I laughed until I cried. The car scene truly was me. I drove a red Ford Escort at the time, and I felt like I put on a raincoat with wheels every time I went to work.

And that’s how my life as a superhero started. Because of those four students, I became the mild-mannered teacher by day, world-saving superhero by night. My kids even believed it (granted they were only 5, 2, and 9 months at the time).  My secret identity has followed me from HCS to the other schools where I’ve worked. Two students from different schools have given me original drawn/painted pictures of me as a superhero, both of which I’ve framed and both of which adorn my classroom.

Last night, to honor Amy’s birthday (she was a Disney fan through and through), the boys and I went to the pre-showing of Incredibles 2. I was probably the only person in the theater crying. No spoilers, I promise.

There was a summer when Amy worked and I stayed home with the kids. I felt like Bob Parr. There was a moody child, a “jump first” child, and a child whose temperament changed the entire household in a blink. It was exhausting trying to care for all three without keeping up with the housework. However, every time Amy called to check on me, I tried to keep the brave-everything’s-okay voice. She saw through it, I’m sure, but I kept encouraging her to go out into the world and slay her dragon. It’d been too long since she’d worked outside the home. Each night, though, I reminded her she couldn’t leave until Isaiah graduated. I couldn’t keep up with it all…especially by myself.

Amy liked The Incredibles. She would have loved the sequel. It portrayed her in the best possible way. Truly flexible. Able to keep everything going, and going well. And one step ahead of each of the kids.

Is it still true today? Do I have an emotional, brooding teen? Do I have a child ready to run into the fray without much thought to the consequences? Do I have a changeling child who runs me ragged? Do I suck at housework and suffer from a lack of sleep? “Yes” to all. Was my Amy-zing wife truly Mrs. Incredible? Yes.  Go see the movie. It’s an incredible homage to my incredible family and ever elastic wife.

-Forever in His grip,

Thom