I am convinced that the beastly illness which turned me into a seasick, shivering automaton for the past 12 days can be largely blamed on the fact that I am run down and weary. And possibly immuno-suppressed.
Being a wreck of a mother for the better part of the past two weeks because of a virus taught me a few things:
1. Don’t let yourself become so run down that you become weak and susceptible to any passing bug that desires to ruin your life for a couple weeks.
2. Don’t eat Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup when you “think” your upset stomach is improving. It is mighty bad coming back up.
3. Zofran. Where have you been all my life?
4. Mostly, just don’t let yourself get so blasted run down and weary, or you really will regret it.
I’ve decided that, though I love autumn for a great many reasons, “because it makes my life easier when people go back to school” is not one of them. Life remains very complicated.
It’s structured, but it’s crazy. It’s beautiful outside, but it is so awfully busy all the time. It lures you to the much-too-crowded zoo for an epic meltdown with one boy, and then rewards you with a follow-up death virus.
When we are in the throes of late July/most of August, fall is the mirage that keeps me plodding forward, hopeful. But the fall is challenging in it’s own way. This year, it’s kicking my can.
I do not wish for this post to be pure whine and discontent. It’s simply reality. I don’t make stuff up, to write about in this blog. I discuss what’s real and what’s happening. I used to self-edit these phases, but now I don’t. I write them down.
The train wrecks are part of the journey.