Day #126: Treading Water
Nothing much going on this week, trying to stay afloat. This is the first full week that Josh has been home but he stays busy mostly in the mornings with calls with recruiters, etc. He's still stressed but appears to be in some demand. I'm hoping he'll get a job he'll actually like, that's my top wish. We've been trying as much as we can to stay out of his way while he does what he needs to do to prep and network. He does have lots of time to spend with the kids especially in the afternoons including some one on one time with James that both of them have enjoyed.
As for the rest of us, we're in something of a holding pattern this week. I think today is the first day that the kids are fully recovered from the weekend and back on their regular (or in Max's case irregular) sleep schedules. Both of them have been very grumpy in the past few days. We've been trying to follow Max's advice and walk as much as possible. Ask Max what we wants and you are basically guaranteed that he will answer either "walk" or "cookie." So we've been putting one foot in front of the other. Keeping laundry moving. It's hard not to feel mom guilt over not doing much, but on the flip side not a lot has gone wrong. Except the house is a WRECK. This cannot be denied. Honestly, it's just been hard to get up motivation to do anything except the minimum that needs to be done. James and I have been working on this little podcast project and I have more episodes to release...the kitchen floor is in bad need of a scrub...I could go on and on and yet at the end of the day I'm exhausted and wonder what we did all day. Such is the life of a mom of little children.
The news on the larger scale is depressing beyond belief. Cases are skyrocketing and people are still arguing over whether masks work. No one knows what to do about school in the fall and the truth is there's no such thing as a good solution to that problem. The right is in denial and angry about everything and the left is trying to out woke each other with symbolism rather than doing anything that really matters. It kinda really sucks to be working so hard to raise kids and then look around and see this is the world we are going to leave to them. I put on the West Wing on the 4th when everyone else was watching Hamilton. It often pulls me out of a funk but even though I've been watching it this week it isn't really helping.
I have been doing a lot of reading. I finished We Dream of Space which was very good but not exactly uplifting...the three kids in it are basically trying to figure out how to live in the dysfunction caused by their parents' rocky marriage which is sad...I think, those people must have loved each other once, hoping I can protect my own relationship from such sadness. And it didn't end uplifting, which I guess no one can expect a book about the Challenger disaster to do.
James and I read a space book that was sweet and uplifting, something called Sadiq and the Desert Star, about a little Somali-American boy who is obsessed with space. I'm so glad books like that exist for him, although the current talk around race confuses him and he asked me when people were going to start treating Sadiq badly because he is black. Sigh. Another parenting fail.
After finishing that book I started My Sister the Serial Killer which is every bit as weird as it sounds but it is for a book group I have on Friday. After all these years I finally agreed to join a book group, run by an old camp acquaintance of mine and this is the book they picked. It's short, which is good because I finally just got it from the library yesterday.
Today I'm grateful for the library, for my little family, for Max and his snuggles, for James and his epic creativity, for going to bed early, that it's not my night to cook, and for one more day. One day at a time.
As for the rest of us, we're in something of a holding pattern this week. I think today is the first day that the kids are fully recovered from the weekend and back on their regular (or in Max's case irregular) sleep schedules. Both of them have been very grumpy in the past few days. We've been trying to follow Max's advice and walk as much as possible. Ask Max what we wants and you are basically guaranteed that he will answer either "walk" or "cookie." So we've been putting one foot in front of the other. Keeping laundry moving. It's hard not to feel mom guilt over not doing much, but on the flip side not a lot has gone wrong. Except the house is a WRECK. This cannot be denied. Honestly, it's just been hard to get up motivation to do anything except the minimum that needs to be done. James and I have been working on this little podcast project and I have more episodes to release...the kitchen floor is in bad need of a scrub...I could go on and on and yet at the end of the day I'm exhausted and wonder what we did all day. Such is the life of a mom of little children.
The news on the larger scale is depressing beyond belief. Cases are skyrocketing and people are still arguing over whether masks work. No one knows what to do about school in the fall and the truth is there's no such thing as a good solution to that problem. The right is in denial and angry about everything and the left is trying to out woke each other with symbolism rather than doing anything that really matters. It kinda really sucks to be working so hard to raise kids and then look around and see this is the world we are going to leave to them. I put on the West Wing on the 4th when everyone else was watching Hamilton. It often pulls me out of a funk but even though I've been watching it this week it isn't really helping.
I have been doing a lot of reading. I finished We Dream of Space which was very good but not exactly uplifting...the three kids in it are basically trying to figure out how to live in the dysfunction caused by their parents' rocky marriage which is sad...I think, those people must have loved each other once, hoping I can protect my own relationship from such sadness. And it didn't end uplifting, which I guess no one can expect a book about the Challenger disaster to do.
James and I read a space book that was sweet and uplifting, something called Sadiq and the Desert Star, about a little Somali-American boy who is obsessed with space. I'm so glad books like that exist for him, although the current talk around race confuses him and he asked me when people were going to start treating Sadiq badly because he is black. Sigh. Another parenting fail.
After finishing that book I started My Sister the Serial Killer which is every bit as weird as it sounds but it is for a book group I have on Friday. After all these years I finally agreed to join a book group, run by an old camp acquaintance of mine and this is the book they picked. It's short, which is good because I finally just got it from the library yesterday.
Today I'm grateful for the library, for my little family, for Max and his snuggles, for James and his epic creativity, for going to bed early, that it's not my night to cook, and for one more day. One day at a time.
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