Here's the thing about "this is a time to slow down and enjoy the gift of time with family and letting go of our schedules and our need to be productive:" It's painful. There, I said it. I know our old way of doing things was neurotic and toxic and isolating...but letting go of that is painful. I was attached to it.
Today I felt the pain. Today I had to stop everything and grab my seven-year-old and lay on the couch for awhile, surrounded by dirty dishes and Chromebooks and dog hair. Today was, in a word, janky.
I'm letting you in on this mess because I have a sneaking suspicion I am not the only one struggling today. Maybe I'm not the only one who scrolled past pictures of moms who were resourceful and energetic enough to actually acknowledge that today was St. Patrick's Day. Maybe I'm not the only one who compared herself to those moms and felt like a failure. Maybe I'm not the only mom who wondered where everyone else found the energy to deal with this thing that's actually turning out to be pretty impossible.
If you are one of those moms, please hear me when I say that you are not alone, and you are doing just fine. This is the part where we wrestle, struggle, and feel generally miserable. Maybe that means the other side of this is closer than it was yesterday.
I'll probably write more tomorrow but for now I am signing off with an elbow bump and a wish for strength and a spark of whatever it is you need to get through tomorrow.
...was the name of my column in Phillips' Finest, my middle school newspaper. If it was good enough for seventh grade, it's good enough for "adulthood."