This last week was action packed and I am having more days of exhaustion. It sounds so dramatic to claim exhaustion, but I don’t know of any other word. Well, maybe fatigue. Overwhelmed. And it isn’t as if I am living a life that is unique and special, it is a life lived by so many: working single mom, trying to get to the next rung on the ladders of home and career, and trying to spend as much time with her kid as possible. I fail at housekeeping, meal planning, fitness, self-esteem, fashion, grooming, and time-management.
I spent the first few days of the week juggling long meetings and the extra that comes with long meetings: child care, commuting, and catching up on time missed with child.
The middle of the week sagged with meetings in the evening and the end of the week was a blur of me recognizing my old friend, the red elephant, was on her way back, a week early. (as if I was on a normal schedule, ha!)
And suddenly it ends up being a Sunday afternoon, the first day of a brand new season, and I realize time, while moving so slowly while I was in it, was actually moving at a pace too fast to absorb. What really happened this week? What do I really want to remember?
• singing Beatles in the car with W
• reading the first few pages of Harry Potter to W (and having him stop me because it was too dull)
• watching W play at the playground every afternoon until his hair was wet
• taking W to an open house at a kid’s gym and seeing how well he would do there
• reading W to sleep
• watching W and Lolly drawing with each other
Yesterday was also Alzheimer’s Awareness day. It happens every year. I just don’t remember it being so close to Millie’s passing day. This is what I shared on Facebook yesterday:
“Today is World Alzheimer’s Day. For many this day is every day, and every night. The job of a family caregiver is never off the clock.
I was Millie’s caregiver for almost 7 years, much longer than I have known motherhood. She went to every single OB appointment with me.
My Millie and my W overlapped for 6 wonderful and emotional months and I’m so thankful for those months.
Her capacity to show love sometimes faded with memories, but Millie always knew she was loved. Always.”