There, there. Have a cookie.

Around 5:00 this afternoon I posted the following status on Facebook:

"I'm craving Oreos and a quiet, locking closet."

What that really meant was: "I'm about to have a nervous breakdown and Oreos are my only legal coping mechanism."

Ironically, I spent a good part of the day reading a new parenting book.  Something's gotta give around here.  So, 100 pages in, I was thinking, "Wow.  This stuff is pretty cool."  Also, "Wow.  I've been parenting the wrong way for ten years."  It doesn't take much to tip my brain into the spin cycle of self-pity.  By 5:00 I had done a good job of convincing myself that my children were ruined and I was no longer worthy of a temple recommend.

You know, because I'm cool like that.

So I sent out my Facebook plea of desperation, which wasn't so much of a plea as it was a masked version of "I'm having a bad day; feel sorry for me."

Waa, waa, waa.

So then the whole family went to the boys' track meet, and we got McDonald's ice cream on the way home, and kids were crazy at bedtime, yada yada yada.

I sent my last email of the day and was ready to crawl into bed (at the respectable hour of 8:30) when I decided to check Facebook one more time.  It's my lifeline to human beings over age 10, after all, and I hadn't had a conversation with a grown-up all the livelong day.

That's when my friend Kristie commented on my Oreo post.  She told me to check my porch.  I did, but I was totally confused, because Kristie, along with all the other Commenters and Likers on that post, live in a different state.  And this is what I found on my porch:

How fantastic is that?

Well, I'll tell you: pretty darn fantastic.  

I know how much I adore anonymous giving, so I'm not going to go to great lengths to identify my generous benefactor.  However, I hope she is reading this and knows how those Oreos (and that cute sticky note) totally made my day.  Maybe my week.

Now I just need to find some milk.  I don't even have to hide in the closet.