I prefer to call myself a “realist”, though my husband would call it “pessimism”. And that’s because he is so optimistic. (How optimistic is he???) He is so maniacally optimistic that if he were on the edge of eternal dehydration in the desert - he would actually believe that a cloud would see his suffering, come down to him and wring it’s very own moisture straight into his parched mouth. Cloud to him. Serious. Oh yeah. I married an artistic-dreamer-optimist. Some in the medical community call it ADHD.
Hey, this was supposed to be about ME.
With that said, I am struggling with my attitude and perspective on mothering. Whether it’s realism or pessimism, this whole “mom thing” is one tough gig. Especially with a nearly 3 year old… for a third time. I haven’t had a teen yet, so please forgive my naiv-e-tay. I don’t want to know. Continue reading ‘More complaining.’
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