I’m happy. That’s an unexpected feeling these days. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not constantly sad, I don’t think I’m depressed, and I’m not Rhiannon-downer. What I am is overwhelmed, at the end of my rope, and generally one step away from the edge of done. I’m drowning in that sea of obligation, and not doing anything particularly well.
My Rhiyaya Facebook page got hidden or unliked by a few people yesterday morning. Was the it Ruth Bader Ginsburg onesie? The rainbow babylegs? The fact that the photo was clearly taken in a daycare center where I abandon my child on the regular? It’s not my intention to have a political blog, but where politics intersects with my life? Yeah, I’m writing that shit.
Sometimes I feel like I’m on a roller coaster without a safety bar. I spent part of this week in complete freak-out mode because Rowan is going to be a year old, but he should only be ten months old, and all of the feelings I’ve avoided so well for the last few months have been threatening to send this car plunging. I’m keeping my hands and feet inside the ride and holding on tight.
Who the eff thought leap year was a good idea?
“You know Julius, we really need to get an extra day in every four years or so.”
This week. Three repubs on Huffington Post. An original post on Scary Mommy. Scary Mommy also picked up one of the Huffington Post essays. I got a syndication offer. Thousands upon thousands of likes, comments, and shares.
Today’s #TBT is courtesy of yesterday’s thunderstorms.
In the seventh grade our family got a Border Collie puppy. Cinder.
