Today I had planned to have a day to myself. I was going to catch up today, send emails, get everything that’s been piling up done. The house is a mess and I was hoping to buckle down and deep clean while listening to my audiobook after a weekend of stomach bug madness for my daughter and then me, then teaching, then president’s day. I’m also nursing an ear infection, one of the many side effects of my 4th head cold since the beginning of the year, which have left my sinuses raw and my ears perpetually plugged and myself with a seemingly unending weak-lunged cough that arrives without fail, quiet and voracious, every night. But, of course, my daughter’s daycare with its faulty heating system was closed again! I’ve never been one to get sick nor complain about it when I do or really complain about much at all, but this winter has been a real doozy for me and the truth of the matter is, I'm feeling pretty broken, exhausted, and very behind.
I’ve been like a record on repeat lately—"sorry, I can’t, my daughter and I are sick” & “I apologize for the delayed reply, but my kid’s daycare has been closed again due to [snow, heating issue, insert variety of factors]” & “I hate to do this another time, but I have to cancel, my daughter and I are sick…again” & (my least favourite) “with both the cost and inconsistency of childcare, I just can’t commit to this right now.” I’ve lost income, I’ve lost freedom, I’ve lost patience, and I’m turning to my writing to share about what my experience has been like, of late, mothering in a world that hates women and is, specifically, anti-mom.
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