I've written several self-pitying blog posts in the past couple of months. Although a couple snuck out, I didn't publish the rest.
After sitting on them, it just didn't seem right to put my sad, negative words out there.
But trust me, they've been stewing around in my head.
The last couple of months have been rough around here. We got pretty sick in February, and then in mid-April when Cora got pneumonia, she and I started a cycle of sick that just hasn't stopped. In the past 9 or so weeks we've had only about 3 weeks without illness.
It's her or me or both of us together. We're finally both on antibiotics and are on the mend, but are still tired and coughing and just not quite there yet.
And it's been so hard on me. I have been a whimpering ball of depression. Zero motivation to do anything beyond alternating episodes of The Office with Signing Time. We've been holed up in the house watching the world zoom by, missing the spring and early summer and certainly not doing it very gracefully. (Just ask my husband.)
I am so hoping that this is the end of this. I have a theory about what's been going on with our immune systems, and hoping that things will be looking up.
In the meantime, I am fantasizing about lake swimming, hosting barbecues in our new backyard, and taking Cora out into the excitement of our Portland summers. I want to make mojitos and go on bike rides, visit yard sales and go to outdoor pools. I want to make it out of town to meet Cora's brand new cousin without worrying about getting her sick. I want to have a reason to take a shower and put on clothes. I want to stop freaking out about Cora's breathing and watch her really have the energy to start to take her burgeoning mobility to new levels. I want to laugh and sing and play, wear sunscreen and eat popsicles. I want to see my family.
I want to get over this crud and enjoy our way too short summer.