savagemama

Sometimes as a parent you have moments of clarity, moments of light. I’ve come to be thankful for these and take them at face value for the tiny miracles that they are. I had one such moment this week. I’m not even sure I could pinpoint the exact time this gift landed in my lap but I know it did.

For months I’ve been struggling and waffling. At times I’ve been wallowing and projecting my angst onto my husband who tells me quickly that I’m doing so but also onto my oldest child who has no words for such shenanigans yet. I’ve told Seth he’s the one in a bad mood, he’s grumpy, he needs to take a walk.

“Babe, I’m fine,” he says. “I think you’re the one who needs a walk.”

And by the time I stomp ten steps through the snow down our long driveway, I know he’s right.
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I’ve got that old feeling.

The one that comes from very little sleep.

I pulled myself out of bed yesterday morning, my bones heavy with fatigue and started on the to-do list I’d been writing in my head for the past few hours.

Check temperatures. Lucille had Tylenol last, Eliza Advil.
Give medicine.
Shower?
Call preschool, tell them we won’t be there for the first day.
Call friend who was to take care of Lucille.
Go to doctor.
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