I want to tell you everything’s okay…that I’m fine and all that.
And while that wouldn’t be a flat-out lie, it’s far from the entire truth.
I wish I could take a vacation from life.
I want all the hard mommy duties to go away. Fuck meal prep and the revolving door that is the clean-up of our kitchen — emphasis on OUR even though I seem to be the only one who gives two shits whether it’s clean or not.
The drudgery of parenting is wearing me down in a way it hasn’t in a long time.
I also feel more unappreciated than I have…probably ever. I’m in this space of incessant nagging — ‘Put your clothes in the hamper, brush your teeth, go back and brush better, go to bed, lights out, NOW.’
No one seems to like the food I prepare these days, which makes me want screech — “Well feed yourself, damn it! That’ll be one less thing I have to do and we all know I loathe cooking anyway.”
Enough with the flipping complaints. My gosh, children.
I need space from people.
This neighborhood dwelling is making me a bit claustrophobic and I just want a break from all of it.
I always have a touch of what one might call depression in the spring. Usually, I chalk it up to the anniversary of my dad’s death…and maybe that IS what it is…but I’m not sure.
The boys and I spent several days at my mom’s in March. That was probably the beginning of this blueness. She and I argued over what some might deem petty. You would think that now that I’m forty, I could accept that my mother and I are vastly different. Why is it still so hard?
This visit felt especially difficult.
Our friends, Ani and Zip and their two girls came to visit in late March. We were all looking forward to that…and then Ani came down with the flu while they were here.
I’d love to say – ‘Oh, it wasn’t so bad…at least we got to see them.’
But that’s not the space I’m in — I don’t have the energy to make lemons out of lemonade. I can’t flip the narrative and make myself the hero of my own story.
I’m still in the wallowing stage.
I’m annoyed as hell. Something I needed and was very much looking forward to, ended up a giant shit-sandwich. I feel robbed. Cheated. Gyped — though I just learned this term has been met with disdain by the gypsy population, so please know, I mean no harm. I’m a bit of a gypsy myself. And a word nerd — acquiring this new knowledge gave me a much needed mini buzz. Thanks, Webster.
Things feel lonely and hard these days. I think that’s the main cause of my marked sadness. I miss friends and activities that feed my soul.
I love Savannah, but since we moved here, the focus has had to be on my kids and helping them get adjusted. There’s an emptiness inside of me that’s thankfully pretty unfamiliar. I can’t seem to break out of my sadness. All the usual tricks aren’t working.
Friendships at this stage of life aren’t that easy to attain. This feels especially true as a mom. I used to go away with a group of girlfriends once a year, but everyone is ruled by their kids’ schedules, so for the past three years it hasn’t happened. This is another reason hanging out with Ani has always worked. Our kids and husbands have always played well together. This visit, though, since she was so sick, I kind of got stuck wrangling four high-energy children while Gil and Zip did their own thing. It was far from restful and recharging.
I need recharging in a major way.
And…the icing on the cake was that a week after they left…Piers came down with the flu. A five to seven day illness, the pediatrician said. Then four to five days later — just the amount of time to make you think you’re out of the woods and that the rest of you have been spared — Wallace got sick. He’s been fever free for a full day now. Gil has managed to stay well — likely because he’s stayed away. I’ve had that rundown, I’m-about-to-get-sick feeling for days, but other than a big nasty cold sore, I’m okay.
Just cranky as hell — in case you failed to notice.
So there you go, my friends. How’s that for an update?
There HAVE been some positives over the past two months. I’m in the mood to write, so I’ll share the good in future posts.
Do you get sad in the spring? I hear it’s a thing. Tell me about it. Maybe I’ll feel less alone.