You know how kids think having to eat vegetables is some sort of punishment? After they’ve turned down yet another food you know they would like if they would just try it, you’re like, “just eat this fucking broccoli because it’s good for you! Why won’t you listen to me?!”
The last few weeks have left me raw. A bundle of nerve endings too close to the surface, chafed by every tiny demand thrown by life. It would short circuit and leave me feeling stuck in the murky darkness, where feelings are different. Less than and greater than at the same time — a heavy fog shrouding the world in a deep sense of dread and confusion. I was aware that there were alternatives to the be found — that happiness did exist as a gossamer, intangible idea somewhere beyond the grey. A theoretical thing. If I reached for it, my hand came back empty.
Squirt is still with us. He’s consistently below five pounds now and his legs collapse every couple of steps. But he’s still eating and getting where he needs to go with no signs of pain. He can’t get in and out of the litter box very well, but puppy piddle pads (brand is called lil squirts!!) are working just fine.
Give a burned-out mother five minutes and a Google search bar and she’ll be told no fewer than a dozen times that she needs to practice some self-care. Self-care is seen as this magical cure-all for anxiety, stress, and all that bothers you in life. I’m pretty sure it cures athlete’s foot and eczema, too.
Read the first part of this story over at Today Parenting Team.
I was in an airport bar sitting solo with my computer and an empty beer glass. I had just ordered cheesecake that I didn’t have to share
“I know it’s only 9am, but can I have a do over?”
We ask this when our days spin out of our control and we haven’t even managed to feed everyone breakfast. We beg for this on the days when we can’t understand how every side of the bed can be the wrong side, when our skin aches from the internal pressure that is simmering as we try to keep the lid on.
This past weekend was our annual Mother’s Day friend camping trip. We go camping with this group of people at least a couple of times per year, and usually one of those times is Mother’s Day weekend. Except for last year, what with the premature birth.