It’s too bad I broke up with the stoics: I need some real, inner strength and am unsure where to get it. My husband will be traveling for the next three weeks, and I will be on my own completely with the twins. The family that lives nearby doesn’t do childcare on demand. (It’s a complex affair that demands planning weeks in advance, their dance cards are very full.) Now, on the eve of Darcy’s departure, I have fallen ill with something I fear is bronchitis. I have hypochondical tendencies, so hopefully it’s not, but on the other hand, I get bronchitis a lot. Last year, I had it five times.
I’m freaked, I don’t mind telling you. I wish I had one of those strong, iron, peasant constitutions like Ma Ingalls, who could endure starvation, hours and hours of manual labor and general hardship. Instead, I was built with the constitution of one of those stupid Victorian ladies, always ill, always needing to return to the fainting couch. It. Sucks.
I’m thinking about dipping into our meager savings and flying my mom out here. But it’s time to pull on my special super strong big girl pants, suck it up, and be strong.
It’s time to be stoical, I daresay?