Rob’s been gone for two weeks and counting. I’ve lost track. The girls are wrapping up their school year and my calendar is full. 

I’m working, managing all the logistics, and yes, slowly losing my grip on reality.

The laundry is out of control. And before anyone says anything, laundry is not my thing. I’m trying, okay, but Rob’s just better at it. (Let’s keep that between us, though. I have a rep to protect.)

The girls and I are surviving on what the internet calls girl dinners. In this house, that means salad and chicken cutlets, and whatever is in the freezer, on repeat. Could we eat something else? Sure. Will we? Doubtful. 

Alcohol intake: low (who even am I?).

Sleep: nonexistent.

Mental stability: hanging by a thread.

And in between keeping three actual humans alive, running a business, and pretending I’m fine, I’m also somehow packing up our house, working out (because apparently it helps with anxiety or some shit), and answering school emails like it’s my full-time job. 

I’m in my IDGAF era, and surprisingly enough, it’s making me fiercely protective and a little unhinged. Case in point: I dropped off wine to a grieving friend this week. NBD… except I had to Google the address because the house is a different color than it was 20+ years ago.

Back in 2004, I used to drop off a sibling after volunteering. I pulled up thinking, yep, this has to be it. And for a brief, panicked moment, I thought I’d accidentally pulled up at an ex-boyfriend’s house. Because, of course, that would happen to me.

Long story short: Wine delivered. No regrets.

Here’s the deal: if you’re in my circle, I show up. Always. It might be messy or chaotic, but it comes from love. And if I stop showing up? That’s when you worry.

Now for the real crisis: I think I’m going to have to mow the lawn. 

I KNOW.

Look, I’m all for gender equality. I run a business, am currently solo parenting, I make my own money, I can hang shelves, and I can do hard things. But mowing the lawn? That’s a boy job. I will die on this hill. Preferably in a lawn chair, with a glass of wine in hand.

Before I had a husband, I had brothers. I have avoided this chore for decades and am not trying to ruin my winning streak now.

Can I figure it out? Sure. 

Do I want to? Absolutely not. 

Will I somehow make it Rob’s problem from the next state over? Honestly yes. 

Silver lining?

The bees are thriving. Truly living their best lives out there. 

Can’t say the same for me…or my wine intake.

-Kimberly

My Guilty Pleasure this Week

That Sounds Fun with Annie F. Downs

Think of it as the coolest dinner party you didn’t know you wanted to be invited to. She chats with authors, pastors, comedians, chefs, and athletes (yes, all her actual friends), and somehow makes every convo feel like catching up with your funniest, smartest bestie. New episodes every week.