I’m sad. There. It’s said.
Parenting solo can be a lonely place. When you fall over the finish line last, you do so alone, no shared sorrows, also no witnesses. When you streak over the finish line ahead of everybody else, the gold medal is just yours to cherish, but there are still no witnesses.
I’m winning and losing in equal measure and it’s a rollercoaster. School is back but not steady. The timetable for my now older children allows them to study at home and so the house, yet again, has a revolving door and I’m never alone to listen to quiet. It just never seems to stop. I do ask them to contribute, and this often means even more interruptions/jobs for me. The catch22 frustration is real.
I feel I am grumpy almost all of my day, not helped by the noise of building work going on in two separate places beside my house. And I have a recurring eye problem which is pulling me down. There frequently feels little reason to smile. Perhaps my expectations are once again too high.
I retreat to the back bench. With tea. Ten minutes to decompress.
And I turn my face into the late summer sun.
The room above the garage
A Moodscope member.
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