I keep waiting to have a really excellent post, but I’ve been waiting awhile, so instead I am just writing here in the middle of the night.
Kit has started to talk in silly voices a lot of the time—this is something that Cricket does. He cannot be pried out of his rain boots with a crowbar—this was true of Cricket for better than two years. There hasn’t been much of this sort of thing between Joey and Cricket, or even between Joey and Kit, because Joey is very much on a different path. But Kit and Cricket look alike, and seem alike in some other ways, and I will be interested to see them together later this year. Kit is mad for puzzles; I am planning to ask Nora whether Cricket is or has in the past been into puzzles.
Joey has finished his extended school year, and is one week into a five-week break; he doesn’t seem thrilled to be off school. I’m trying to get them out of the house most days, but I’ve been depressed and tired, so there have been too many days when we just end up taking a trip to the back yard. This week we have plans for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday; I’m trying.
I’ve just finished a little freelance work, so I’m up after midnight, waiting to be able to sleep. The boys get up before 6 every morning, so tomorrow will not be a super energetic one on my end—note that we do not have an outing planned for tomorrow—but for sure the dudes can swim, and I can drink coffee and daydream about taking a nap.
I’ve struggled with depression for most of my life. I feel grateful to be at a point, now, where I can see the sadness and hopelessness as something that I don’t have to explain to myself or jolly myself out of; I can have those feelings and just try to let them exist without allowing them to rule my life. Some days they steer me more than I wish they could, and almost always they weigh me down, but I can enjoy the kids and give of myself to them and make jokes and read novels and see the depression as sort of running alongside instead of over my life. I’ve learned that when I am especially burdened, I have this different kind of exhausted compassion for the kids’ troubles that is quieter and less pushy than my normal variety, and that seems like a silver lining worth appreciating. Six or so hours ago, Joey just melted down, screaming and shaking and just beyond coping. He had a mild diaper rash, but I couldn’t find any other obvious cause for his distress—but just being held by me without having to endure a lot of stupid questions helped, and a bath helped the rest of the way.