a girl who writes

I finally did it. I have been looking at my closet for weeks (months?) now feeling sad. I would see all these cute clothes that just do not fit anymore. I lost so much weight post-divorce, only to gain all of it back post-Covid. Sure, I can totally lose all the weight again, but that won’t happen overnight, and in the meantime, it’s not doing me any good seeing it everyday. It just serves as a constant reminder that I have somehow failed. I don’t want that. So, off the clothes went into bags. They will find new homes somewhere else. And here? Now I just see clothes that actually fit the body I have now and I am so good with that. The only small items I kept were my bridesmaids dresses and the dress I wore on my first date with Nick (because, you know, good memories). When I lose all the weight again, I’ll reward myself with a new wardrobe. Until then, I am here to celebrate and embrace who I am now.

It’s only Tuesday and I am already done for the week. Why am I so tired? Only one more day of distance learning. Next week is Spring Break. The boys will be at camp so we all get a break. Then if everything goes as planned, they will finally be back to school in person full-time. To say I am looking forward to it is an understatement. My body is tired and my brain is mush.

The boys started hybrid learning this week. Of course I am feeling guilt about it. I should be keeping them home and safe. I shouldn’t be excited about returning to the office a few days a week. I should be able to just handle it all and not be exhausted and drained by mid-afternoon. I am not a super hero, damn it. I’m one person and I never signed up to be a homeschool teacher. When I got pregnant, it was always my plan to go back to work. I was not going to be a stay-at-home mom. Yes, there are child care options that assist with distance learning, but we quickly discovered that it was better for the kids if they had someone helping them with everything directly. So for the last year I sacrificed my mental and emotional health to do what was best for the boys. I’d do it all over again just the same, but fuck, I am tired. This pandemic is kicking my ass and I am ready for it to be done. I am grateful for the little steps toward normalcy, but actual “normal” cannot come quickly enough.

Every year begins the same. Big plans to do more of something and then you just don’t. Same story, different year. Here is my attempt to get back on track.

I have been wanting to write about this for a week or so now. For nearly 8 years I have been next to one or both of the boys as they fell asleep for bed time. I recently put the boys back into their own bedrooms. They had been sharing because we created an office/classroom out of the other room. Ethan was in desperate need of his own space, so I separated them. The first night in their bedrooms, neither of them wanted me to stay with them. It was so weird and, surprisingly, hard. I kept checking in on them and Ethan asked me about it. I apologized and said I just wasn’t used to it.

It’s the end of an era and the beginning of new one. The boys have grown up so much and sometimes I don’t realize that I am holding them back.