Meredith Carson... Across the Pond and Back Again...

Today I am writing. Winter has knocked the wind out of me this year, and over the last couple of weeks I have been (with the help of a higher dose of medication) digging myself out of my burrow. I have been reminding myself to be gentle and forgiving of myself.   I find it very easy to judge myself harshly when I am huddled on the sofa, wrapped in a cocoon of blanket, trying to summon the desire to put my feet on the floor and get on with my day. I tell myself, "You are so lazy! No one wants to get up and do the laundry! Everyone feels this way. You are not special. Nothing is wrong with you. You are failing at life. Just get up, and snap out of it!" I do not say these things out loud, and I do not even say them with real words, but I know that this is how I feel about myself. Wonderful friends tell me, "You are fabulous. It's okay to crawl back into bed some days," but I defend my judgmental self. My judgmental self knows how completely useless I am. ...

Because he lives with me all of the time, I sometimes forget what a joy my husband is.  I'm not even being sarcastic.  Sometimes I just get the tired George who has been at work all day, who comes home and feels compelled to carry out various construction projects around the house.  That guy is lovely, but he isn't the life of the party... so sometimes I forget that "the life of the party" is who my guy naturally is. I am not the life of the party typically.  I am the girl who makes a quiet witty comment in the corner at the party.  In the beginning our differences drew us together, and these differences have continued to serve us well through the years.  He appreciates my unusual sense of humor, and I very much appreciate the fact that he can help me take myself less seriously.  But I still often forget how positively fabulous he is.  It is nice to be reminded.  It is nice to see my husband through someone else's eyes and to remember why h...

Today was an exciting day for Sophia.  She got to sleep in a few minutes later than usual and miss the school bus since she had a "well check" appointment at the pediatrician's office.  Emma had her well check several weeks ago, and that was an entirely different ordeal... When Emma met our doctor for the first time at that appointment, she had a laundry list of concerns and worries: bad tummy, big tonsils, poor hearing, and a few others I'm sure she would rather I didn't broadcast on the Internet.  She also had to have two shots or "jabs" as I still like to call them.  (There are quite a few British words I am not keen on giving up.) So after discussing all of her woes and worries with our new and exceptionally lovely doctor, Emma braced herself for the dreaded jabs.  I sent Sophie out of the room since I knew she was due for jabs at her next appointment and since I was certain that there would be no shortage of drama and tears in t...