- Three late nights in a row threaten to derail my nascent self-care practices. Exhaustion and ghrelin push tender emotions to the surface, but there is no time to care for them.
- Glass and porcelain smash on the kitchen floor. I’m certain I did the wrong thing by swooping in to clear the mess. Assuming helplessness serves no one.
- A laurel wreath.
- Everyone is salty. Me, my kid, the other kids, teachers, other parents. We blame the weather and laugh it off, but are unable to hide the edge of hysteria in our voices.
- Few things are as horrifying as biting into a shrimp that doesn’t taste quite right.
- I don’t care about the wine glasses, but I’m still annoyingly upset about the broken dish.
- How do you keep trying when there’s no reward for doing so?
- I’m worried they won’t find anything. I’m worried that they will.
- “I have to work.” The words taste strange as I say them to people grown used to my stay-at-home-parent availability, including myself.
- In bed before 9. I have a club meeting first thing in the morning.
