“I broke my fork on my salad” is the saddest metaphor for healthy eating new year’s resolutions I’ve ever heard.
But, actually, while I *did* break my fork, the healthy eating is going well. One of the things I’ve learned with my HSP-ness is that I get hungry quickly, and it makes me sooooo sad and cranky. Steady-grazing is the way to a happy Erika…but that does mean I need to take care on what I’m grazing on.
I like salad. I like this romaine/spinach/carrot/apple/almond salad I made up this morning especially.
My fork, however, cried uncle. Plastic forks these days – no standards.
Honestly, I’m having some trouble with my usual new year optimism. This holiday was rough. Kai got sick on the 23rd, and then my Grandaddy passed away late that night. I didn’t know until the morning of the 24th, at which point I felt really strange. Figuring it was grief, I kept on keeping on, but finally decided not to go to Christmas Eve services I felt so off.
Woke up Christmas morning with a fever of 102. Packed up for the road trip and left anyway. It was good to be with all my family (it was a Planks-In-Louisville Year already), but the finely tuned dance of Christmas rituals we’ve worked out over the decades (this day at this house, this afternoon here, then we see this person, la la la) was completely disrupted by funeral plans and everything. As they should have been, but it was exhausting, managing everyone’s feelings and striving to balance everything and still keeping the boys calm and give them some of the magic of Christmas.
I think they had a good time. I’m not sure.
Anyway – new year’s. Eating healthier, but not less. (Dieting is for chumps.)
Note to self: invest in heartier forks.
“Mommy, I was happier before.” said Kai a propos of absolutely nothing. He does this a lot – starts a thought in his head and then starts talking to be about it as if I were there from the beginning. I know developmentally he’s processing that we are two separate people, that Mommy is not just an extension of Kai, and that he’s at the end of that – where he gets it, but it makes him a bit anxious…and still, I think he thinks I can read his mind.
Well, sometimes I can.
“You mean before when I wasn’t working?” I intuited.
“Yeah…” he sighed.
“But you’re at school all day,” I said, “and I’m home to get you off the bus every single day. We spend the same amount of time together if I were working or not.”
I saw him working that out in his head…and I also know that its not entirely a true statement. Yes, hours of the day, we’re together the same…but I’m not *with* him in this hours as I used to be. I used to do all my “me” stuff when he was at preschool. All day preschool. Then, I’d get the kids off the bus and I’d be in kid-time. Kid Zoned.
Now, I get home from work, I get kids off the bus…and I’m a bit more frazzled. A bit less present.
Kai’s no dummy.
“I wish you were home ALL DAY.” he finally says.
“I don’t,” I tell him, “I’m happier working. I like working. It’s really interesting work, like how you learn stuff at school. But, how about we try to do more together after school, sound good?”
“Okay…” he said skeptically.
I’m trying. I blocked out 4pm-6pm in RED on my Google Calendar. It says FOCUS ON KIDS. I can’t put anything else in there. Our laundry situation is a bit dire, but I’m trying to ignore that and just be with Kai. Soon enough he won’t want me there, present with him, he’ll have homework or practice or just want to be on his computer ignoring me. I’ll do laundry then.