Cleo's Daddy

Today, my six year old asked why I don't play with her anymore. Obviously, she doesn't care about the cereal boxes on the counter. She wants me. I haven't taken a shower without her sitting on the floor of the bathroom since this all began. She also told me that she hates how angry she gets right now. "I didn't use to get angry so fast," she said, "but now I do. It's hard. I just want someone to play with me." We used to do some serious play and projects together. Art projects are our thing. Yesterday, during the first snow fall of the year, I didn't even go out to play with her in the snow. I sent her out by herself. This can't keep going. Something has to give. But what? I can't leave an unclean house, mostly because I need to keep it disinfected for my husband. Drop work?  I spent the last year and a half building up my own consulting business. It's been hard, and I've loved it. I've never felt so scared and ...

There were three cereal boxes on the counter. And a bag of bagels. On the counter. Like, not put away in the pantry. They wouldn't fit. So we stacked them in front of the kitchen aid. WE STACKED THEM IN FRONT OF THE KITCHEN AID LIKE WE WERE SOME KIND OF LAZY BUMS WHO DON'T ORGANIZE THEIR HOUSE. I lost it. Literally, lost  my shit. Those damn cereal boxes needed to be in the pantry. Like we were civilized people who don't store their food on the counter. Those boxes were coming to get me. They were smoothering me. Taking over my kitchen, taking up space, spreading out, until we no longer realized they were there and we lived every day accepting the mess because we now had no time to clean it up. Those boxes were a cancer on our lives and I needed them GONE. This isn't the type of thing that normally bothers me. I mean, I try to aim for a de-cluttered house, but I can usually deal with it. Last year, in the first year of starting my own business, I'...

It seems silly to write a blog about my own struggles with my husband's cancer diagnosis, because 1) I don't have cancer, he does. 2) It's a "great" diagnosis. It's the kind of cancer everyone recovers from. So really, we don't have much to be sad about. We are celebrating the great diagnosis. It's just a tough six months in front of us, that's all. But there is a light at the end, and we'll be OK.  3)  There are so many worse things that could happen. I feel like I don't deserve to feel stressed or saddened by this. A Facebook friend of mine lost her husband this spring. He died. My husband is still here, and there is a promise of a full life on the other side of this. So it's hard to acknowledge my saddness in all this. People go through much, much worse things in life. 4) People are so wonderful to us right now. We are so, so blessed by so many wonderful friends, and I am so thankful for all their support and kindness because...