Exhausted
2020. Wow, mama. You sure do know what you're doing. I can barely keep my eyes open. It's almost as if 2020 is my toddler with constant diarrhea, an ear infection and a face smeared with pea smush. Apologies for the visual, but really, I'm so ready for this ugly, cranky, messy, baby to go to sleep.
This week felt epic. I mean, the President getting Coronavirus - I mean... Really?
As much as I relish the poetic justice of it all, and sort of sickly and deliciously delight in the notion of the entire GOP being laid out for weeks on end - holy balls! It's too much to take in.
It's the feeling most similar to when your messy toddler is running around your house screaming - No BATH! on the top of their lungs while green mess pours out of the sides of their diaper and they have been screaming so hard that a crusty green snot bubble forms outside of their nostril and you know that they are one epic throat rattling NOOOOO and a bottle away from being passed out cold for three hours.
Well, the toddler (Trump) just passed out (pretending to sign paperwork in the hospital without self tanner and his crumpled shirt opened at the collar) and now it's time for Mommy (America) to take a nap while watching Pen15 and cooking soup in the Instant Pot.
We all need a psychic nap. I am supposed to do yoga in 30 minutes and the thought of getting up from this spot and out from under this blanket is more than I can handle. Also, I just got a text message from my daughter that the dog threw up on her rug and I literally do not know how I am going to deal with this situation. Like, I know how to deal with it - Nature's Miracle and paper towels - but I am not sure my weary soul can handle it. The thought of picking out dog vomit from her shag rug is horrifying; next to my diarrhea diaper toddler, it's the perfect metaphor for this shit year is it not?
The funny thing is, I've been doing alright. I still think I am doing alright, I'm just at war with a million different energies swirling inside of me and I can't focus on a damn thing. I am prone to these significant dips. I ride a high of productivity and energetic doing that I sometimes forget that there is a marvelous and somewhat spectacular swinging pendulum moment where I come face first into a proverbial brick wall and shatter all of my front teeth.
This time it's different though. It's like I've been nursing a sick baby for months while Peter snores deeply and out of rhythm in my ear all night long. I'm so sleep deprived that I can't even rage. Each little thing feels like another out of synch snore and though it makes me angry, I'm too tired to actually care about it. What's that feeling called? For now let's call it IDONTCAREHAUSTION
The kids ask me to make homemade pancakes - Mild IDONTCAREHAUSTION
Peter can't hear me and accuses me of mumbling when his hearing is CLEARLY failing. - Significant IDONTCAREHAUSTION
And finally, the feeling that there is no way to make a decent joke about what is happening to the President when I have SO MANY FUNNY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT IT - You may as well set off the house fire alarm just as I've settled into REM, just to finish me off. It's fucking torture. Severe IDONTCAREHAUSTION
So, instead of standing over the sink, fighting the urge to lazily break plates, I am going to hibernate in a deep and unnatural way. Like Rip Van Winkle Sleep type of slumber.
I'm going to do yoga. I am going to have coffee with a friend and then I am going to shower, put on fresh pajamas, throw all of my rotting vegetables in a slow cooker with broth, wine and a noodle and make it soup. I am going to park my slowly covid expanding tush (though now I am on Noom - don't ask friends. In times like these I become diet dependent - that's a whole other post) and I am going to pull a blanket up to my ears and not emerge from that cocoon until it's tomorrow.
The diarrhea baby? What are going to do about the puky green boogered baby of 2020? Really, when it comes down to it - IDONTCAREHAUSTION. Maybe we all take a nap and wake up recovered? Maybe not. What I do know is that Pen15 has my name all over it, and that's probably the best news any of us is going to read all day.