In a perfect storm of bad timing, I got a bunch of new followers in the middle of a time when I had so much on my plate that writing got shoved right off of it. Long story short: we all got COVID! I had mild cold symptoms for a few days and then promptly lost my sense of smell and taste. The kids each had a fever for about a day, and then they were completely fine. Satya just got really tired, but pretty sure that was less COVID related and more to do with the fact that she was taking care of Eilan 24/7. Speaking of Eilan, he got hella sick and ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. He’s home now, recovering, and – blessedly – off oxygen! Which is the shortest recap of a month long saga in the history of my writing, but it’s what I’ve got.
In other news, today is a day of mourning for me. Winter seems to have passed WELL BEFORE HER TIME and that bitch Spring is already moving in. I am not okay. I’m gonna have to mow next week and GAH JUST NO. NO. It is JANUARY. And I need to be thinking of when and how to begin planting my garden. And while this is usually something that brings me joy, despite the fact that I am planting a future graveyard of plants that have no chance in hell’s chance of surviving, let alone bearing edible fruit, today there is no joy. Just a simmering resentment at the lack of cold and the fact that I’m going to have to fight my other two partners to not turn on the AC later this afternoon.
Today I am not just on the struggle bus, I am driving it and this is the bus from Speed. There is no slowing down. There is no getting off. There is just endless pedal to the metal refusing to even consider an off ramp. All without Keanu Reeves to make it better. Buckle up, bitches.
To make it even worse, I cannot describe to you how awful eating is without taste. It’s doable, but terrible. It’s a great diet plan, if that’s your kind of thing. Because when you can neither smell nor taste your sugar, it becomes an unpleasant glob in your mouth that is completely unworth the effort of chewing. And so I find myself rather unwillingly on the ‘everything is tasteless’ train. Blegh. That being said, when the only difference between a kale salad and some pie is texture, it’s really easy to pick the salad. The salad at least doesn’t make me angry that I can’t taste it.
When my prozac and sugar cannot help us, what is a mom to do? Target, if I’m being honest. A few days ago I rage bought 14 organizational tubs of various sizes to try to once and for all organize the kids’ room. While rage buying off the app, I also saw some STEM activities hella discounted and rage bought those too. Which ended up being today’s saving grace. Invent, children. Craft in your super clean room. Let mom rage type into her computer and talk to her internet friends while you see how much glue it takes to put a googly eye on a sparkly pom pom.
And also Nintendo. I’m sorry if you are PC gamers, or XBox folks, or Playstation peeps, but the Switch is just unbeatable when it comes to gaming when parenting. It’s portable, for one. So I can sit on the couch and cuddle and do it while NOT taking up a TV screen. I can pause instantly and repeatedly and just walk away for two hours and come pick it back up with 0 consequence. Animal Crossing? Hell yes, dinosaur obsessed daughter, let’s take a walk through the museum and see which fossils we still need to find. Let’s chat with that super cute cat and run away from the bear with the grinch eyebrows. And currently losing myself in My Time In Portia, which, frankly, is one of my favorite games of all time and YES I DID buy the sequel on kickstarter slated for 2022. SO WHAT.
To be clear, I’m not getting any sort of kickback for my advertising. I wish. I’m just being honest about what’s working over here. And it’s not the essential oils I cannot smell, it’s not meditation, it’s not nature. It’s gaming and independent play for my youngins. And by independent play I also mean shouting “GO PLAY OUTSIDE” at the top of my lungs and then contemplating (but never following through) with locking them out. So I guess nature might be helping them. When it’s not raining and gross outside. I digress.
All of this to say, I’m not dead yet. I’m here. I post rather constantly in my stories on Insta and respond quickly to questions about polyamory and parenting and politics. I am determined to get back on a schedule for writing and pumping out content.
Question is: what do you want to read about?
The Book of Her 