I feel like I’m repeating myself, but all I can think of to write
about is that I’m sad. I was blog surfing not too long ago and I read
a line that said something like, "I’m feeling kinda down, but I don’t want to say I’m depressed because I don’t want to look like a weak woman."
That makes me want to write about how I’m feeling all the more, you
know? I cleaned out the boys’ room , and I got all teary about
throwing out stuff like the belt to the Superman costume and Nate’s old
blue visor with the green crocodiles on it (I actually stashed that
with some school papers and artwork that I’m keeping because I couldn’t
let it go yet). I just feel sad that my boys don’t want to dress up
like superheroes anymore. It’s not exactly because they’re getting
older, it’s that as they get older they get self-conscious and less
spontaneous and more worried about how they look and what’s cool. I
miss their openness to everything, I guess.
I’ve got to get Sophie to school, and since she’s in her underpants
and hasn’t eaten and school starts in a half hour, I’d better get with
Updated. . .
So, I just went back and actually read the post I slammed. Read it *all* the way through this time. I guess I need to be a little less punchy about stuff, because she went on to talk about possibly seeking professional help and perhaps looking to medication as well. I apologize for tuning her out when what she wrote hit me the wrong way. I’m fairly sure she doesn’t read here, but, you know, if so, truce? Hope you feel better, too.