He’s one of me and sweet mister drool face. Notice me in my bathrobe, which was pretty much my uniform in this past week.
You see, Micah and I both had the flu last week. Mine was a horrible body ache/chest congestion combination that lasted five days. Just as I was getting better, Micah came home with an awful stomach bug that lasted 48 hours.
On top of this, Jonah has been full-force into a big sleep regression. He won’t stay asleep more than an hour or so. Ugh!
Without a doubt, this has been the hardest week of parenting so far. All of my energy has gone into surviving - making sure this guy gets his diaper changed and that we all have enough food to eat.
I wish I could say I’ve stayed pretty zen about it all, but honestly, I’ve been feeling pretty sorry for myself. And while there’s no harm in a little self-pity, I have to be careful when it goes on for too long because a few of those thoughts can turn toxic pretty quickly.
It’s the HARDEST thing for me to do - turn my thinking around to a more receptive place. It’s painstaking at first. I just look for tiny crumbs of gratitude and see if I can gather them together into modestly good perspective. The sh*tty voice in my head fights it the whole time.
But after a while, something catches and I notice I’m sitting softer in my troubles. I find solutions a little easier and even catch myself having fun. This mental layer of self-care is so important, and often so hard to talk about. But without it, very little works.
So, still in my bathrobe, I will gather and gather. I will continue until I tap that steam of sweetness that is always running through my own life.