Today the rain is falling and I can’t put two and two together to make anything even close to resembling four. I have cold feet and fingers and I keep forgetting things. Out the window and the ornamental crabapple has blossoms on a single branch. Now. At the brink of September, after a summer that for all intents and purposes never came at all. It’s rained almost straight for the past three months. The delicate pink blossoms are almost shocking among all the late summer foliage. Green everywhere.
I cannot see the mountains. Clouds press up close around our little hilltop and I am restless today. I cannot put my finger on what is wrong. I am listless. I should be grateful. I have so much to be thankful for and yet I woke up with the surly ungrateful attitude that there would be nothing to look forward to today, and I am proving myself right by default. The law of attraction. I am annoying myself.
Bean is also annoying me. There. I said it. I hate myself for this—for feeling like my child is someone I don’t want to be around, but I don’t. Uh-uh. Not today. He is one big negotiation after another. Temperamental, every few minutes whining about something or gritting his teeth or intentionally twirling something heavy or sharp through the air at the end of a very thin string.
I am at the end of a very thin string with him. I want patience. I want grace. But today with the rain cold and splattering and perpetual all I’ve been is too close to everyone in the same quarters and all I want is to be somewhere the heck away from here. Of course this matters not at all. When you're someone's mother you can’t just get up and shake off your life for a day. And to be honest, the glumness is so pervasive today I can’t think what I want. I have no idea what would make today sparkle.
It’s like I woke up and tripped over a bucket of gray paint and it’s gotten everywhere, obliterating the possibility of a sunny outlook. Humbug. I am hungry even though I just ate. Again. This is how I am all day long with the whole nursing thing. I am always ravenous. Hum.
Maybe baking will cure things.
What should I bake?
Do you ever feel this way? Grouchy without a single real reason in the world to be so? What do you do then? ** UPDATED: I finally went for a run on the treadmill & made a new record. 3 miles. 23:50 minutes. And after running hard, the world felt more in context, as it often does when I run. Why can I not remember this when I am in the thick of feeling sorry for myself?