I die a thousand tiny deaths every day...but I'm not dead.
My full-time job and all these classes I so cheerfully signed up for are keeping me away from the blogging world. I'm writing, I'm reading, I'm working my ass off, but I'm not blogging. (a tiny death)
I'm also not painting, not cleaning, not cooking, and not socializing. (more deaths) The children have wisely moved out of my house. I cannot describe what a difference it makes in my ability to get schoolwork done. They think this means I am no longer parenting. That might be true, but since I can no longer parent in the style to which I am accustomed, I have resorted to simply worrying. (a death)
I worry that Sara won't be able to get back and forth to work because her car is broken. I worry that Jacob is going to get some poor, unsuspecting girl pregnant. I worry that David is sleeping on park benches, because he shows up here every once in a while to check the bus schedule on the computer. I worry that Matt doesn't have a clean uniform for work.They'll do their own things, though. They may not make the decisions I encourage them to make, but I can't control any of that (nor would I want to, they have their own lives).
I worry about all the other things a mom worries about, and even more than I ever thought about before they were all on their own.
Tiny little things.
Tiny little deaths.
.
.
.
My full-time job and all these classes I so cheerfully signed up for are keeping me away from the blogging world. I'm writing, I'm reading, I'm working my ass off, but I'm not blogging. (a tiny death)
I'm also not painting, not cleaning, not cooking, and not socializing. (more deaths) The children have wisely moved out of my house. I cannot describe what a difference it makes in my ability to get schoolwork done. They think this means I am no longer parenting. That might be true, but since I can no longer parent in the style to which I am accustomed, I have resorted to simply worrying. (a death)
I worry that Sara won't be able to get back and forth to work because her car is broken. I worry that Jacob is going to get some poor, unsuspecting girl pregnant. I worry that David is sleeping on park benches, because he shows up here every once in a while to check the bus schedule on the computer. I worry that Matt doesn't have a clean uniform for work.They'll do their own things, though. They may not make the decisions I encourage them to make, but I can't control any of that (nor would I want to, they have their own lives).
I worry about all the other things a mom worries about, and even more than I ever thought about before they were all on their own.
Tiny little things.
Tiny little deaths.
.
.
.
