The title of this post basically sums up my brain in a nutshell this year. It’s December, the Christmas holiday which I’ve been doing really well with the past few years is upon us and I have zero Christmas Spirit. Between moving, the Twins’ celebrating their birthday, and being away from my Hubs, it just doesn’t feel like Christmas at all.
Little is super excited, and I’m trying my hardest to do the usual Christmasy things she really enjoys, but I feel like it’s all falling flat this year. 2016 has been brutal. I feel like I’m just bracing for the next tragedy, surviving through life and not particularly enjoying it this year. Now I’m confined to the apartment with three sickish kids, and it’s like the holiday isn’t even really happening. It’s just the mundane in and outs of motherhood from sunrise to sunset.
It’s not a depressive state, it’s more like a suspended state. If I didn’t have my calendar to keep track of the days passing I think I would lose track all together. It’s kind of like when you go outside on a really windy day… all of the wind is just rushing around you carrying leaves, bits of trash, whatever rushing past you but you’re just standing there watching. You can feel the wind, like I can feel time passing but there are no visible indications. If that makes sense? I’m rambling lol.
The apartment is clean, organized, dusted and vacuumed. The kids are asleep. I’m bored with binge watching Netflix, and I’ve already gone through my weight circuits leaving me with nothing much to do but tap away at my keyboard, waiting for time to pass EVER so slowly.