Yesterday evening was filled with shenanigans in the boys' bedroom. It's amazing how much fun can be had with just a board. They look forward to their daddy getting home all day, and only get an hour or so with him each evening. Seems so strange and wrong to me that this is the way the world works, but I have to try and be grateful that they get the hour that they do get. I have to remind myself that Matt's job is the reason we have this playroom to play in, and these toys, and delicious meals. It's important, but I'm not sure I'll ever get quite used to the idea of spending so much time away from him. It's like my arm is walking elsewhere, away from my body, in a town half an hour away, all day.
I'm fraught with anxiety over my therapy session this evening, for no specific reason. I just don't like how stressful these evenings can be, and always forget how good I feel afterward. The idea of driving around downtown, parking, and walking alone after dark causes me so much undue stress that Matt drives me, with the kids in the back seat, and drops me off. Then occupies them somewhere else for an hour while I pour my heart out, and picks me up again. Bringing the kids to the city is always a stressful endeavor, and then feeling like it's all my fault because I'm just too incapable to take care of myself... Gah. Sometimes it's more than I can bear. Though my therapist reminds me often that I'm not the only one feeling this way about myself, and about life. As it turns out, most people feel this way at least some of the time. It's a comforting thought, when I can believe it.
For now I'm debating an afternoon nap. Tricky things, naps. Sometimes a welcome friend, and sometimes a full-on day ruiner. It's a delicate line.
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