My voice may be cracking like a pubescent teenager (thanks to The Cold That Will Not Die), but I soldiered on and gamely attempted to sing Jack's bedtime song. Sure enough, it was as painful to hear as it was to sing. Like listening to a CD after it's been put through a garbage disposal.
Finally, Jack tilted his head to the side, looked at my quizically, and said:
"Mommy? How did your voice get scratched?"
I so love the way his little mind works. Four-year-olds are awesome.
-------
Days passed, and my voice is now returning to my normal timbre. (If "normal" translates to "roughly the tone and pitch of a sixteen-year-old girl").
My body is still in open revolt - and it is, indeed, revolting at present. I really need to find a home for the rest of the Christmas fudge before the weight I lost creeps back up on me... in the form of dimpled, fudgy thighs. Despite this, though, the last week has been something of a honeymoon period. I find myself enjoying activities I usually dread: doing laundry, washing dishes, consciously breathing before 8am.
I think that my week away was some sort of watershed event -- though, for the life of me, I can't figure out exactly what epiphany I had. Maybe it was being around my family without being paralytically self-conscious for the first time in a decade or more. Maybe it was the reminder of some of the dysfunctional relationships that rampage through my kin. Maybe it was just the opportunity for breathing room and the chance to gain a little perspective.
Whatever the cause may be, this unexpected wave of Joie De Vivre is coming in past the swells and heading for the breakers. Tonight I actually took down the exterior Christmas decorations - and it's not even February, y'all! I may have to stop myself before I put an end to world hunger or single-handedly resolve conflict in the Middle East. Or clean out our basement storage. (That last one, by the way? Easily the most difficult. I would post photographic proof, but then you would all be privy to my dark, dark shame, and then I'd have to avoid your calls and screen all my evites to make sure we don't accidentally attend the same party because ...awkward!!!)
But suffice it to say I am doing my best to accomplish as much as I can before whatever Happy Hoodoo this is wears off and I'm back to glaring menacingly at the breakfast dishes and cursing the heavens when Toby manages to remove his diaper and use his crib as a urinal. At least for now, though, it really is All Good.
No comments:
Post a Comment