You cannot believe how much joy this costume brings to Wyatt. Garett may or may not have spent five days building this garbage can which is a replica of ours. He assures me that it will be a toy for years and years to come.
These sweet words from my two year old boy could not have come at a better moment.
I've been feeling pretty crappy the past week and a half. I think it's a combination of a nasty cold and a minor Behcets flare. Whatever it is, I've bailed out of more things than I can list and I struggle to get over the feeling that I'm a flake. There is a battle going on in my mind in addition to the one going on in my body. The battle is between believing what is true about who I am and feeling like what I do or don't do or what others think about me defines me. I lose this battle often and wind up feeling even worse.
On top of these deep issues of identity, I also feel bad about the kind of parent I am on these days. Today, for example, Wyatt and I did not leave the house. We watched gobs of PBS and a Curious George movie and only ventured outside to say hello to Fidel as he dumped our can into the garbage truck. We had smoothies for lunch and I let him hang out in his bed after nap for at least 30 minutes while I tried to peel myself out of my bed.
I don't want to feel guilty but still do. I want to be a mom taking my son on adventures, enjoying the beautiful day at the beach or climbing up a hill. I want to be doing fun projects together or even just eating ripe strawberries from our backyard. I want to not have the television on nearly all day and I hate the fight I know tomorrow will be as a result of Wyatt getting to watch so much today. I hate saying no to friends who want to get together because I can't imagine having a conversation and being a parent at the same time. And my house sorely needs a good, deep clean but I don't know when that will happen.
Tonight Garett stood over the mess of dishes in the sink and said, "I'm looking forward to you feeling better." What I heard was, "It's a disaster around here and we all pay a price when you're sick." Garett's not the kind of husband who needs a honey-do list in order to get things done around the house. He's the primary toilet cleaner, trash taker-outer and vacuumer so I don't think he's complaining when he says that. He's just acknowledging that it's hard on all of us when I'm sick and I couldn't agree more.
When Wyatt said, "Mommy, you're my best friend," tonight, my heart swelled and I tried to not assume he said that just because he got to watch TV all day.