I inexplicably feel like crying. Although I am proud of the fact that I can use the word 'inexplicably' in a sentence correctly, that doesn't change the fact that I just don't feel well.
But I'm not sick.
And I have more things to be grateful for than I deserve.
Shall I run over the list again?
No, I didn't think so.
Today, I took a nice long nap with Carly. She woke up first. She is three years old. That means she probably won't stuff small toys in her mouth anymore and choke on them. That means I feel a little more secure about letting her skip around the house while I doze off. Because sometimes, like today, I am just not ready to pull my too-large self out of bed when she is.
Today, after my nice long nap and while I was still drifting in and out of slumber, Carly made the house her wonderland of wonderful things. She:
- gave herself a dose of cold medicine. (One of the kiddy, melt in your mouth strips.)
- used a scoop of foot cream on herself and the rug.
- sprayed herself in the face with Halloween body glitter that we had left over.
- ate a few chocolates. Probably 10. And brought me two. One melted under my arm.
It was the sticky chocolate on my arm that prompted me to finally pull myself out of slumber.
I feel pretty awful about the whole episode, really. Even though it is kind of funny that she engaged in such antics, I pretty much think I'm a terrible mother not to keep better track of my adventurous little imp. A terrible, tired, stressed out, self centered mother at that.
You can probably write this off as a few things. Maybe depression, which I have dealt with before. Maybe stress. Maybe the upcoming XXnd birthday. Maybe bad mothering. Maybe money woes or a combination of everything.
Giving it a name doesn't make it any better.
I suppose my urge to cry isn't so inexplicable. But it sure feels that way.