Bags under my eyes, bruises on my heart – still the best choice I ever made


The silent killer.

The silent keep-you-up-half-the-nighter.

Stress is not being able to fit in a game of yahtzee with my child.

Stress is missing the bus.

Stress is the next bus passing me by because it is too full.

Guilt is my son telling me he missed me.

Stress is getting locked out of my office because I forgot my swipe card on my desk when I went to the bathroom.

Frustration is having to hold the hand of a colleague two levels senior to me with only half my workload as he fumbles with a file.

Stress is never finishing the readings for my classes on time.

Stress is a ball of playdough landing in a bowl already half full with water.

Pride is hearing my son call it stew, with garlic.

Stress is stepping outside on a bracingly cold September day, with my son’s new hat still wet in the washing machine.

Stress is being woken by a snoring husband, and then again by a crying toddler after having finally drifted off after thirty minutes of tossing and turning.

Stress is not having the time to go buy my husband a birthday present.

Stress is waking up exhausted, again.

Bliss is having my son climb into the cocoon between my neck and my knees and proclaim it HIS cuddle spot.

Stress is listening to my cat miau plaintively due to perpetual lack of attention.

Warmth is talking a new student out of dropping a class, assuring her that she is simply low on confidence, not capability.

Stress is nursing a headache due to too much coffee and not enough sleep.

Encouragement is a friend telling me that one of the greatest factors influencing a child’s future success is his mother’s level of education.

Stress is my son crying for one more story.

Comfort is reading him one more story.

Stress is running out of home-made frozen muffins.

Delight is being offered a taste of soap soup memomade instead.

Amazement is cuddling my son in his new big boy bed.

Stress is standing on the other side of the door and listening to him cry from fear of his first night in a big boy bed.


The silent bruiser.


Both cause, and cure.


1 comment so far

  1. Savannah on

    Awesome blog!

    I thought about starting my own blog too but I’m just too lazy so, I guess Ill just have to keep checking yours out.

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