Update (it starts kinda heavy but it gets lighter)

**********This is the heavy part**********

Feel free to skip to the lighter part at any time. You won't hurt my feelings. 

 

After 10 months of Covid restrictions, I find myself rattling around this house with too much responsibility and not enough to DO. Winter weather has been especially painful for me, shutting off the outdoors as a place to work/play/be. I am so, so tired of this house. So, so weary of living through the same day, the same petty chores, the same people, and the same problems every. single. minute.  This feeling persists despite three very big and wonderful events happening recently: 1) the boys going to in-person school 8 hours a week, 2) my friend's apartment being declared bedbug free, therefore allowing her senior home aide to return, therefore relieving me of those duties, and 3) the physical pain and mental anguish of a messy breakup finally stopped hurting as much. An open wound has healed into achy scar tissue now. 

I'm constantly irritable, never satisfied, losing interest in things that I used to enjoy, and scouring the news and government websites for any glimmer of hope that this will ever end.

And that, my friends, is a classic case of depression. Not an incapacitating case, but clearly having an impact.

I'm keeping to my usual coping mechanisms in place: daily anti-anxiety/depressive meds, regular bedtime, mostly healthy eating habits, reinstating daily personal scripture reading and prayer, keeping a physically orderly environment, good personal hygiene, and making regular contact with friends. I haven't exercised as much lately, but I'm still doing something every few days. If I went to therapy, I don't know what I would say. I would probably just cry. This is hard. It's hard to be strong all the time. It's hard to have everything I need and still feel unhappy. It's hard to feel guilty that others are suffering more than I am in so many ways. I should be grateful and happy and working to make things better...aren't I, though? I thought I was. Why am I still so sad? Why does the sound of a housemate coming to find me cause a flicker of dread...they're going to want something more from me...I'll have to be strong and patient and act like the adult, no matter what they do. And then there's the guilt for feeling that way. For wanting to avoid the people I love. Why do I feel like I'm a prisoner just trying to keep it together until rescue? Am I going to be okay until that rescue comes? Will rescue come?

 GAH! 

Talking about it helps. Had a good cry. Feeling a little better.

I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm going to change the subject now and talk about other things...

 

***************This is the lighter part****************

Last week, I decided I'd help Robert deep clean his room. It wasn't dirty, per se, but everything was everywhere in piles. He and I spent hours sorting and organizing his possessions. We rearranged some furniture, too, giving him more space where it mattered most. It was fortunate I did that when I did. It reminded me that we're keeping the queen-sized guest bed strapped against his wall, and it made a clear spot on the floor where we could set up the bed for Alice. She was having another episode of night anxiety. I suggested she could use the guest bed in Robert's room. He stays up longer than the younger boys, and welcomed the company. She felt better at that idea and actually slept really, really well that night. The next day, she asked for a queen-sized bed, deciding that a twin size was just too small anymore. Ha! But that one night of good sleep ended the anxiety episode. Hooray!

James started in-person school last Friday. He was pretty excited. And he was still excited this morning for his second day. They're learning all the extra Covid rules and procedures pretty quickly. Matthew's teacher sent me an email after his first week saying he did an AMAZING job with in-person expectations. She even capitalized it like that. I'm so glad! What a relief. 

When I drop off or pick up the kids from school, I hear the teachers call them "The Evans boys". It makes me smile. I can't decide exactly why. I also notice how other parents interact with their kids at pickup. There's one mom I've watched several times as she picks up her kindergartner at the drive-through. When her daughter comes out of the school doors, the mom gets out of her car, meets her at the curb with her hand out, holds her hand the 10 feet from the curb to the passenger door, opens it for her, helps her in, gets her out of her coat, and buckles her in to her car seat. I'm 95% sure that's how I would get Alice into the car as a kindergartner. That is in sharp contrast to how things roll with "The Evans boys", though. I don't get out. I push a button to open the sliding door on the curb side and the boys pile in. I push a button to shut the door and there's a shuffle as each boy finds his seat and struggles to buckle himself in before I leave the parking lot. Matthew usually wants to take off his coat and mask and hand me his stuff before sitting down and buckling. He's such a proper sort of fellow sometimes. But we end up barking at him to sit down, buckle up, and just wait the 2 minutes 'till we get home. Soooooo very different from one's first child.

With in-person school now, we've decided to be more cautious when we interact with Erin. The older kids groaned loudly about wearing a mask to visit her, but they would never choose to stay home over it. Matthew even said, "A mask is no big deal!" They are all pleased to hear that there's no vaccine approved for use in children yet, so their jabs probably won't happen until after the summer :) I signed them all up for check-ups, though, the first week of February. Alice and Robert will be getting boosters for entry into high school and middle school, respectively. Can you believe Alice will be going into HIGH school? Just 4 more years with this one.

And now for pictures:

Robert got Alice a giant stuffed llama for Christmas. They were both thrilled.

 

Robert finally got a crested gecko. He's been saving and planning for about a year. He's named him Tiny, though we won't know whether Tiny is a girl or boy gecko for at least 18 months. He/She will grow to about 8 inches long and a couple inches wide.

Tiny has proven to be curious, quite speedy, and a great jumper.

Now that's just adorable. Tiny eats fruit puree, mostly, but can be fed crickets.

Alice has been free-handing some sewing projects. Yes, her hair is now red. She loves it. This is a jumper she designed for one of her future children. She's amassing quite a collection. 

Here, James is taking Matthew's portrait. I'm glad the Magna-Doodle could be fun again for a little while.

Robert is very, very snugly these days. He wants snuggles when he's happy, when he's feeling a little insecure, and when he's bored. Sometimes he'll just come up to me and rub his face on my face. Hm.