Today, I cried.
I cried after yelling -the sort of yelling that you know a parent shouldn’t do. There may have been jumping up and down.
Before that, I made waffles. See? If you’re an optimist, there was the positive you sought in this story.
Last night, I stayed up late coughing. The black death of all colds has finally stricken -a belated present from my husband. He’s still keeping part of it, actually. It’s been two weeks for him.
I don’t cry much, usually. I remove myself from thoughts or feelings. I need to not think, to not notice the wearing away. I cannot show emotion, or those little boundary-pushers walk all over me.
But, I’m tired. I’m sick. I’m sad.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” They all look concerned. They all want to hug me and comfort me. I think they need stoicism; they also need empathy.
It’s okay to cry.