:: :: plea for laughs :: ::

One of the things that first clued me in to the fact that I wasn’t OK was that I found myself dreading the weekends. The weekends, of all things, when Brian would be home and would be sharing the parenting. I still can’t explain it, but at least I’m starting to understand the dread itself.

I mean, it’s a horrible, terrible thing dreading being with your kid, the child you love and cherish and would do anything for. How can you possibly dread that, like with every molecule of your being?

The thing is? I barely have the psychic energy to get myself up and out of the house to go read in a park by myself. I have no appetite and can barely handle taking care of myself. Then I think about the time with Evan and how much energy it’s going to require and how present I’m going to have to force myself to be and how much I’m going to want to smile for him and be happy and suddenly I’m awash in dread. I barely feed myself and suddenly the idea of having to get dinner ready for Evan just seems like too much. Too, too much.

I’m totally dreading the weekend, folks. I hate to say that but it’s true. Send me something funny to help me through?