Just kidding.
Just writing this made me burst out laughing so hard.
I'm not up to much. Parenting. Cooking. Instgramming. If anyone reads this and wants to find me on Instagram, I am JEMVT. Get at it. Let's be virtual pals. I love Instagram though. I've made some really nice, interesting virtual friends. We share recipes, talk about makeup, banter, bitch, and gossip together. It's strange to meet people based purely on particular shared interests. I follow a few moms, an author, two artists, and many home and professional cooks. And I enjoy them all very much. It seems like we enjoy each other very much. We're an eclectic group- all ages, races, ethnicities- united by the almighty Iphone and the burning desire to share photos of our beautifully poached eggs. Good times.
I am so tired of feeling sad. Weekends can be achingly hard, and lonely. I want to have a day of rest, a nesting day, with someone. Know what I mean? Cook, cuddle, do fun things with Gumball. Together. I cherish our time together, just me and Gumball, but I do wish our duo was occasionally a trio. Being this profoundly, deeply sad makes parenting especially taxing these days. I refuse to mope around my kid, so I spend 12 hours a day pretending to be upbeat. I also feel guilty for not being upbeat enough, and for all the multitude of other parenting failures I commit on a daily basis, so I overcompensate with more activities, more fun, and more pretending. At baby bedtime, I feel wrung out. Literally jonesing for quiet time on the sofa. I'm thinking wine might help. Or amphetamines? Just kidding. Sort of. Not really.
Another thing that may help, is not dwelling on my sadness. I think this is going to be the last time I write about it, at least for a while. Unless it means that I have nothing to write about, in which case I'll start bitching again. I have a lot to be thankful for: the best friends anyone could ask for, a wonderful but often maddening mom, the sweetest kid, a beautiful home, etc. I am lucky, goddamn it. Lucky. Now I need to be happy.
I need to point out that I am not expecting a relationship to make me happy. I don't put my fragile happiness in another person's fickle arms. I've been married and divorced twice. I know better than to do that. I do think that a relationship would give me the things that I can't give myself. I know the hype. I know another person won't make me happy, and that I need to be happy by myself before I can be happy with another person. But... I can't hug myself, I can't cuddle me, and solo sex is completely unsatisfying. I'm a great partner to myself, but I want someone else to share this with too.
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