When I’m tired, I just make up my own words. It’s easier.

I am tired of peed-on sheets and clogged-up toilets.  I’m sick of washing hampers-ful of clothes that I swear I just washed, and pulling up weeds I KNOW weren’t there yesterday.  I don’t want to keep showing up for a job that wears me out.  I keep running through the logic and coming to the same conclusion: that it’s still the best solution I have.  That doesn’t help.  I hate that my husband is gone and that in this new “smaller” world he still seems so far away – Blackberries and AOL and free long-distance notwithstanding.

I’m tired of feeling guilty about fretting over circular tasks when I should be celebrating one of the few summers I’ll have with my kids while they’re little.  And when I am enjoying playtime, I’m tired of feeling guilty about the state of my carpets or dishes.  It’s exhausting to constantly fight this bad attitude, and to stew over decisions that may or may not turn out to be momentous.  Is this infraction worthy of discipline?  Should I let that one go?  Ought I to have seen this coming, and done something to prevent it?

Oh, it’s all temporary.  I know it, and you don’t need to worry about me.  I’m just in a wallowy sort of mood today.  Don’t drop off any brownies; I’d be sure to eat the whole pan, and it’d just be one more thing to beat myself up over.

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About Grape

I've got the world's best kids and husband. Great house, steady job. I'm living the American dream. The trick is to appreciate it. I'm working on that part.
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