People, this phrase pisses me off.
Yesterday, I was on a date (ON A DATE . . . read: having fun) with my kids. We were at JoAnn and they were shopping and spending money from Great Grandma from Christmas. They made smart selections. We played and we were talking . . . doing GREAT and having a GREAT time.
We enduring the fabric cutting line and took a swing through the garden stuff. Started planning and dreaming about our summer yard.
When checkout time rolled around, we waiting patiently (all 5 of us . . in the forever long "we're-short-staffed-and-four-people-got-layed-off-line"). When our turn was up, we marched up to the register.
"How are you today?", asked the clerk.
And, before I could say, "fabulous . . this has been great . ." or "fine, thanks, how are you . . . " or "good, the sale in crayola is AMAZING!"
She said, "whoa, you're overwhelmed . . . you've got your hands full."
Eek. Ugh. My breath got stuck in my body. Big says my eye twitched at her. Middle says I gave her "stink eye".
What actually came out was, "Overwhelmed?? (bat, bat of the lashes) . . . No, this is how I like it . . . YOU must be overwhelmed. There are 30 angry quilters waiting in fabric cutting and a line of 40 waiting to check out."
She didn't say anything else to me. But I'm still left with that exasperated shut-the-hell-up attitude. Who does that?? Who makes that assumption? I wasn't scolding a kid. No one was screaming. They were all postively angelic. These kids did HAPPEN to me (in part) . . . but I was an active, willing, wanting participant. And I LOVE them . . I CHOSE this. I'm not overwhelmed. I'm good. I'm damn good.
Sometimes, my hands are full. She's right about that. In that moment, they were full of crayola products and cut fabric that's (in part) paying to put Cheerios on her table . . . so if judgement prevails . . you're right. My hands are full. So get the flippin' door for me, would ya??