You'll Laugh at This...

Well, 2025 is off with a bang. You'd think the universe would give it a break, but no, it's gotta keep pushing...

A lot has happened since that hopeful December 30th newsletter. I managed to survive the twelve days (now seventeen) of closed daycare, RSV, the forced holiday cheer, only to get to the finish line and realize my kids are still alive, but my marriage is on life support.

I mean, it’s not a huge surprise. Any long-standing reader of this knows Jay and I haven't been in the best place the last year. Plus, every marriage has problems. Every relationship, especially those with kids, goes through periods of tension. But this is different. Something is broken, and it can no longer be ignored and siphoned with bandaids anymore.

No one has any idea what’s going on in people’s homes. I’m more honest than most, but even still, I couldn’t explain it all if I tried. Which is why, in the middle of all this, on January 2, when my mom asked me to see Wicked, (an odd request as we don’t do stuff like that), I thought saying "I can't handle that right now" would suffice.

I didn’t tell her that I was sleeping in the basement because Jay and I had the worst fight we've ever had. That the D word was brought up (again, not by me. And this time, in an even worse way.) Cue - your husband sitting across from you, legs crossed, eyes absent, asking you 'what we're going to do about this'. About us.

That I am stuck in my closet as the only place to escape while my father-in-law stays with us for three (but now apparently could be five weeks). That my kids are out of control. That I can't get a decent night sleep because Emilia keeps peeing the bed, because Elizabeth still isn't walking, because the man sleeping next to me hates me. That it should be a fresh new year, but it feels like mine is imploding around me.