If you were to take a peek inside my brain for ten minutes, I think the word “discombobulated” doesn’t quite cover the thoughts swimming around in there. “Unhinged” comes close, but it’s still not wholly accurate.
Being a mom is hard. Being a working mom who’s still trying to cram all the things into her day is hard. It’s even harder when I’m trying to have conversations about current events and I admittedly have no clue who Bowe Bergdahl is, or why he’s important. Does he have something to do with why my son didn’t care to eat his oatmeal this morning and instead played with it and spilled milk all over my floor? No? Then I don’t know about it. The fact that I can get myself and two boys ready and out the door by 8:00am without leaving the house looking a cyclone came through it is a miracle. To anyone that’s already been there, done that, this is not new. But there comes a time in every parent’s life when this juggling act is new. And it’s hard.
I’m trying. I’m pumping at work during lunch so I can hold out on nursing Alex a little longer. I’m trying to drink lots of water and eat oatmeal and do whatever I can to keep my supply up without spending a fortune on herbs that will promise the same.
I’m trying. I’m researching all I can on Grayson’s social delays and what could be the potential cause, but until our meeting with the county school department I’m left with my what-if’s and can-this-be’s. It’s scary. But I hope that once we have our meeting we can pinpoint the problems and move forward with effective solutions.