I feel like this coming week and last week are harder than the six months behind us. Henry’s homecoming is so close and yet, so far!
I kind of feel like I should have some profound things to say about being on my own for six months with three kids but I got nothing.
These six months have affirmed for me that self-care is important, that mommy martyrdom is for the birds. I have zero patience for whining, for tantrums, for little kids who seem hell-bent on making my life more difficult. I also don’t have much patience with myself, and while I’m good at getting alone time or adult time, I’m not good at developing and keeping healthy habits. It’s the first thing to go when things are chaotic and there are demands on my time and attention.
Things I’m terrible at:
1. Going to bed not late
2. Reading books instead of being online
Things I’m good at:
1. Thinking instead of doing
2. Not giving a damn when the kids complain about dinner
3. Book piles
4. Making popcorn
I added those two lists because I couldn’t think of anything to write. How do people write so damn much? My train of thought peters out after a paragraph. Now I know how my intervention kids feel. I saw this funny thing on Facebook that went something like this:
Develops plot in shower.
Creates character as she gets dressed.
Writes whole story in her head at breakfast.
Gets in front of computer and is all ” wut r werds?”
That is me right there. *sigh*