Even though my eyes seemed stuck to the back of their sockets in a weirdish, inverted position, I slowly rolled with a groan lept from the bed and into the shower this morning. It was my daughter's first day back to school after fall break, and I had promised her I would drive her to school at the ungodly hour of 6:50 am. She had lain in a puddle of tears the night before, casting off some mean girl saga I missed while I was traipsing about the universe sprinkling messages of slow and abundance.
So here we were, sitting on the kitchen floor and sorting through school supplies and my daughter's feelings to get to the bottom of things.
"And the worst part? She never even apologized!" my daughter exclaimed. I guess she was used to apologies being the normal ending to conflicts. Not so in the real world, I told her. We say we're sorry, but not everyone learns that courtesy.
I am roughly 27 hours into the full-time motherhood/work-from-home consultant gig, and I already feel worse for wear. Some of it has to do with residual jet lag. The other part has to do with getting back into the swing of things after a few weeks on travel. You can never fully simulate the feelings to marrow-deep exhaustion when you are away from home. It's only when you get there that you realize how much energy is required to keep the ship at an even keel.
Luckily, my kids are used to hearing and saying 'I'm sorry.' We've had a lot of practice, and my guess is it won't be the last time they hear it from me!
