I am drained. Four and a half days of flu that seems to have no end. I try to concentrate on other things, but the demands of motherhood bring me to my present calling. I have people asking me, “Did you read this book on grieving, yet?”, “Have you had a chance to read your email?”, "Can you come to this event?" "We’d love to see you at our gathering." “You really need to schedule time for yourself –have you done that recently?” This is what I have had time for: changing diarrhea diapers, rubbing upset stomachs, holding dripping popsicles, changing bedding at 3:00 AM.
And as I write, I sense that these feelings don’t sway far from that of any mother. This is the stress of parenting, the tension of days that don’t go well. There is a pressure to perform even when pushed to limits that far exceed our perceived strength.
Is there anything novel in what I am writing? Have I stumbled across any great revelation? I am drained. It is 7:48 PM and I think I will go to bed with my kids. This is the most novel idea I have had all day.
