I will admit; I have, for the past couple of days, been in a funk. A “funk” is defined (by me) as a period of feeling a bit off, sad, melancholy, contemplative. It doesn’t last forever. But it might feel like it will. This funk was not brought on by any great moment of sadness or tragedy. It isn’t the reaction to negative stress or feelings of being overwhelmed.
My baby turned two.
In the grand scheme of problems, I’m not even sure this is considered a “problem,” but nonetheless, for about a day and a half I watched all of my son’s independence seem like a rift between us, caused by his growing and lack of dependence on me.
I know he turned two and not ten or twenty, but there is no competition for greatest problem, and, for me, this was enough. In addition to my son’s relentless aging, my cat…
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