I opened the car door into my head today. Right on the forehead -- with the pointy part of the car door. I am one bump closer to being Klingon.
Last night was another night of torturous infant crying. We are attempting a form of sleep training which involves a duel between my soft mothering conscience that tells me to hold my baby at every peep and whimper, and my husband's logical confidence that our daughter's nighttime crying needs nothing more than a little "hello" and "go the hello to sleep".
Whatever the struggle, it is rare to hear of anyone in a state of blissful happiness these days. (Except maybe this girl who just got engaged to her Prince Charming who saved her from her evil stabbing ex-boyfriend.)
I'm not saying my life is bad, or that I'm unhappy. My mother likes to remind me that at least my husband isn't out at sea for months at a time. (Way to go, Dad.)
Sometimes we just need a little pick-me-up. Food works well. Shopping is a good one. But when I can't leave the house and am recovering from a stomach bug, sewing becomes my therapy. Sometimes it backfires on me and I waste hours on a simple project that is so riddled with mistakes it is no longer wearable; however, today I report success!
The therapeutic hum of my Bernina machines, the sharp slice of my gingher scissors, nary a curse word to disrupt the rhythm. (Never you mind what my infant was doing to allow such productivity to ensue.)
Alas, a fantastic little girl's dress to prove this all actually happened. Don't tell Lily. This one isn't for her.
What's your pick-me-up today? Did you buy something pretty, eat something extravagant, go for a run in this beautiful spring weather?
(And as I finish up this post, I stop to bend over and wipe up the puréed carrots that were tossed on the ground while I was selfishly typing away on my phone. My head throbs. Ah, yes. That unfortunate collision with the car door. I think I will plan my next sewing therapy now.)