Hamburgers and heartache
I came to the realization last night that I've been feeding my children as a crackwhore might. Ok, not the little one - he's still nursing (and I'm proud to report there is not a trace of cocaine in my breastmilk). But I haven't been to the grocery store in two weeks and I've been feeding the larger one like a pigeon in the park. Occasionally tossing a chunk of cheese or a piece of bread hastily smeared with peanut butter at him.
Now don't get me wrong, my pantry doesn't look like one of a crackwhore, in the sense that there is food and there aren't any cans of Cheese Whiz, jars of Marshmellow cream or glass pipes. However, there is not a stitch of fresh produce and Cai hasn't seen a meal with more than two of the four food groups for a couple of days, ok, I won't lie - more than a week. I am a bad mom. Bad. I don't really have a good excuse. I'm overworked, underpaid, etc. I kind of feel like slapping my own hand, but I don't really want to, so I won't.
Onto another topic, a very tiring topic I might add. The masochist in me drove by the church yesterday. I expected to see a big flashing blue and purple 'SOLD' sign (blue and purple lights cause I really like those colors which would add to the pain the sparkly sign would inflict). However, there was no sign at all. Instead, what I saw was a very normal pick up truck pulling into the driveway.
Just like that. Just like it was any other day and someone was coming home from work. Home from work. Now before I continue I will make a pledge that this is my last bitch session about this subject. I have an incredibly bountiful life and I know I'm being a brat.
But I just have to tell you, when I watched that truck pull into the driveway my stomach dropped. And as I continued down the street I tried to identify the familiar, yet distant ache I was feeling. It took me less than a block to realize that it was the exact feeling you get when watching a boy you love kiss another girl. I had forgotten how that feels, and I have to admit it was a bittersweet sensation.
Now don't get me wrong, my pantry doesn't look like one of a crackwhore, in the sense that there is food and there aren't any cans of Cheese Whiz, jars of Marshmellow cream or glass pipes. However, there is not a stitch of fresh produce and Cai hasn't seen a meal with more than two of the four food groups for a couple of days, ok, I won't lie - more than a week. I am a bad mom. Bad. I don't really have a good excuse. I'm overworked, underpaid, etc. I kind of feel like slapping my own hand, but I don't really want to, so I won't.
Onto another topic, a very tiring topic I might add. The masochist in me drove by the church yesterday. I expected to see a big flashing blue and purple 'SOLD' sign (blue and purple lights cause I really like those colors which would add to the pain the sparkly sign would inflict). However, there was no sign at all. Instead, what I saw was a very normal pick up truck pulling into the driveway.
Just like that. Just like it was any other day and someone was coming home from work. Home from work. Now before I continue I will make a pledge that this is my last bitch session about this subject. I have an incredibly bountiful life and I know I'm being a brat.
But I just have to tell you, when I watched that truck pull into the driveway my stomach dropped. And as I continued down the street I tried to identify the familiar, yet distant ache I was feeling. It took me less than a block to realize that it was the exact feeling you get when watching a boy you love kiss another girl. I had forgotten how that feels, and I have to admit it was a bittersweet sensation.
