I Hate (oops!) Heart February

 Recently, my mother-in-law said to me, "Have you been down lately?  The tone of your blog has been a bit sad lately."  This was obviously before my last HAPPINESS! post.  Sometimes I feel like I need to perk things up a bit for you, my lovely readers, but then I remember that a. I don't do perky and b. writing is my free therapy.  And you know therapy does not work unless you are honest...that's kind of the point!  So, if we are being honest, here's my issue. 

 I really hate February.  I want to love it and all it's Valentiney, Black History glory, but that damn month is always bringing me down.  February in our house is the month of germy, sickly kiddos who terminate any healthy being in their path.  February is the month where the skies are perpetually gray (even in Georgia!) and it's just rainy and gross.  I truthfully power washed over 100 worms in various stages of decomposition off my walkway yesterday.  I can still see their squishy little bodies and I took pleasure in blasting them with unnecessary force.  A doctor once told me that I suffered from seasonal depression.  Shocker! The good doctor's advice?  Try to spend a month in a warmer climate.  Really?! That's all ya got? I came perilously close to punching said doctor in the throat. February is the month that I am particularly chubby.  Don't try to deny it.  All of the winter hibernation and overeating has caught up with me and my body looks like a sausage in mom jeans. February is the month our anniversary.  It's always been special because it's the day we started dating (17 years ago) and we decided that we should get credit for all of those years before we were married (because they were hard work).  Herein lies the problem friends: after the holidays we are always too broke to feel justified in celebrating it so we kind of don't. 

Today, I woke up and it is still February...in case you did not know.  The people I love are struggling with major life stresses, as well, and we all know that my s%#$ is highly sensitive so I wake up in a panic many mornings fighting for air.  I feel like I am forgetting something...key check, purse check, phone check, and then I realize the panic is due to all of the stressful events surrounding my family.  You know. The kind of stuff you have absolutely no control over.  I felt stupid last night for getting so angry, so worked up over a sick family, pukey laundry, and a broken clothes dryer, when I have so much to be thankful for.  My dear friend, who is wise beyond her years, had this to say:

 "There may be worse things in life than this, but you know what, Kate? This is your reality right now and it is extremely stressful for you right now. Sick kids are no fun, especially not for 9 days. Puking is no fun, especially not in the midst of 9 days of sickness. A broken dryer and piles of laundry ... No fun, have been there done that many times, and in the midst of 9 days of illness, including the pukies - MISERABLE!!! You have every right to whine, cry, and complain right now and don't you feel bad about it! Got that?"

Got it, Lena!  And there are so many others that have reached out to offer encouragement.  This is why I have the best of friends.  I am doubly blessed with the best of family.  

I came by to drop my niece off at my sister/cousin's house yesterday and she said, "Look at this.  I am keeping track of every day that you have a sick person to take care of at your house.  See? I am coloring those days in on the calendar.  So next time you tell me that your life is making you nuts, I can show you why!"  This made me grin.  Annie is always so sensitive to my struggles and surprises me with her thoughtful gestures.  

And you, readers, are why I stay healthy and somewhat sane.  It is such a gift to know that women out there are reading my posts and nodding their heads.  You have your own giant lists of struggles and we are often praying for each other.  You beautiful women give my hurdles meaning and validate my feelings time and again.  In fact, you may be the best therapy ever.  My cousin by marriage, Marcela, a.k.a. Culture Mami, says this to her readers.  "Your comments make my blog sing!" Amen to that.  

Every time I hear from you...even if it's just a brief comment about your day, my friends, I know that we are all in this together.