Nothing for it but to enjoy the pretty tulips I bought today when I walked into town to pick up our car.
"All out of gumballs" is an expression I invented four years ago, at a time when I was very sick. I had no idea a person could be as sick as I was back then and still have to function somewhat normally for part of each day. My kids were younger then. My daughter was six and my son was 10. During the day when they were at school, I walked and slept and tried to breathe my way through a long day of terrifying flashbacks, anxiety attacks, pain and exhaustion. When my kids came home from school, I tried to look like mom for a few hours until they went to bed.
How could they understand that their former super-mom just wasn't her old perky self? I used the metaphor of a gumball machine. I told them that my energy and ability to do things was like a gumball machine filled with a certain amount of gumballs (sometimes not too many rattling around in there), and when they were gone, I had to rest and wait for the machine to get some more. This made sense to them, so we planned our time around how many gumballs I had that day. Enough to play a game of Go Fish. Enough to read a story. Enough to lie down beside them on my bed and listen to them chat about their day.
I have more gumballs these days. A lot more. But some days, they just run right out.
Colin's week and a half off from school is wearing on me. He has been his needy, bored, emotional (and hormonal) self this week. I am hormonal too. Bad timing. Doug's off at Scotch night (don't ask); I had to go to an interview at Hayley's school and pick up the car from servicing. Two blow ups with the boy. That's it. I'm out of gas.
I finished this jacket today, and like me, it is a limp, wadded up lump. I haven't got the jam to wash it and block it tonight, but I'm sure it will look a lot better in the morning.