Folks, I am having a blah week. Stuart was out of town for 7 days, then the kids got sick, my self-confidence took a dive... I won't need to bore you with more details. But this evening, when Daniel complained of a tummyache and I looked at the pile of dishes in the kitchen, I just couldn't face it anymore, so I sat on the porch and called my mom.
Sometimes you just need to do that, you know? I don't have anything big to feel sad about, but since we got back from vacation it's just all been piling up without a break and I needed to unload to someone who won't judge, who will just listen, who doesn't mind a little excessive whining and self-pity (now that I'm grown up, at least), and also, someone who has been there. She remembers what it was like when my brother and I were little and she had no time to herself. She remembers feeling unnecessarily anxious when we got sick. She remembers the seemingly endless days of whining and runny noses and bickering and ingratitude and night after night of fractured, restless sleep.