10:00 a.m. - 2018-08-17
I didn't always hate summer. I mean, I've never been one for the heat or sun specifically but it was fine because I liked hanging out and going for walks or drives or whatever, and all that is easier when it's not snowing and cold.
It's only when I had kids and suddenly it's expected that I take them places and entertain them and give them ~memorable summers~ of their childhoods that they can fondly look back on and they were toddlers. Toddlers. How exactly was I supposed to make it memorable for a three year old?
And then I got sick. The sick started long before the pain but I ignored it. I just pushed it down and kept going because there was so much that needed to get done until I was a incapacitated heap of malfunctioning bodily systems.
So I'm starting to wander my way back to being healthy (while constantly on the defensive against flares or stresses or anyyything) and I struggle to get up at 730 to make sure the garbage is out by 745 so that we dont miss the garbage, as that is one of the big triggers for my depression to act out if I can't get the gathered garbage out of my sight.
But I did that. and in thetime its taken me to write this, I've agreed to doing shopping for my kiddos grandfather because he has no one to care for him, and because he's going to pay for the kiddos and I to go see a movie today. He wanted to come along but since he got his leg broken there's no way he can sit for the whole time,
And I have to bargain like that, I have to think subversively and carefully. Otherwise I'll end up his primary caregiver and I would kill him.
And this way, the kids get to have something interesting to do today, because it's summer and I'm supposed to be making it memorable !!!1!