Man, I feel like I am treading water these days. In a sea of laundry and cooking and cleaning, I’ve got these two kids I am trying to keep from floating off in the undertow of screens.

There’s some lady online bemoaning the loss of cursive while someone else wants us to add the Bible “back into the curriculum.” I am having to force my eight-year-old to do typing lessons so the three sentences she’s assigned won’t take an hour to peck out. The prayer we have in our virtual homeschool is for the hotdogs I made for lunch and dinner in our smoky toaster oven. I texted Tim to buy more mustard on his way home from work.

My self-care was yoga class at the rec center that was canceled last March. Apparently it started up again sometime in the summer, but without childcare, I can not go. I tried it over Youtube, but it’s hard to do warrior pose while stepping on a Lego. My women’s Bible Study is a text group. My mysterious rash turned out to be eczema so there’s another diagnosis with no cure. It’s probably from eating whatever is in all the hotdogs.

This time of year I have no more emotional space for anyone’s else’s nonsense. I am sorry God answered your prayer with the wrong guy. I am sorry we can’t get together for the holiday too. It’s not my fault things are like this and I do not need anyone else’s drama about it.