Well, no one is going to be giving me a Mother of the Year award. I sent all three of my kids to school today. Jet-lagged. A little bit sad. In the bitter cold. The littlest and I had a date with a box of Pop Tarts at one in the morning. That and a little dose of Benadryl. Sue me. I need my sleep as I am having a busy day sorting through laundry, making lists, staring into space and contemplating the formation of toast sweat on my white china.
I have been sitting in front of the laptop for a while now, willing the words to come. They’re not really. I tried this same tactic with the treadmill and the silence was deafening. I haven’t run in a week. I am woefully behind and I don’t think I have the heart to keep up a training schedule. I’d rather eat chocolate. For some reason, this doesn’t seem to present the same challenge that writing and running do. It’s Dove chocolate. It’s not even Swiss for crying out loud.
Today, life feels a bit like a fractured fairy tale. We are here and our family is there, and our sadness spans the ocean and endless sky. Those skies won’t be carrying us home for good anytime soon. When you agree to life abroad, no one prepares you for the worst. And let me tell you, this is the worst. These fractures take faith. I know they will heal, and the moments will again have meaning, but for now I want to eat chocolate, contemplate toast sweat, and wonder if my kids will ever forgive me.
I’ll give them time. And maybe a little chocolate.