I’m going to a meeting tonight. Just double checked with a friend to see if she’s coming, too.
I may not be mentally there . . . this parenting thing is killing me lately. But my body will be present.
YES. This. Exactly. Empty shell. Wrung dry. Kaput. Finé. I’d hug her for this message of mamaraderie except that would take energy. Instead, we agreed we’d just prop each other up and drool. That propping and drooling are, in fact, our most recently mastered areas of expertise.
So, momrades, anyone else want in on the propping and the drooling? Vacant staring and couch sitting also accepted. It’s an open invitation. All are welcome.