It’s been a tough couple of days—exhausting, to say the least.
The little one has been sick, sleep has been scarce, and the endless juggling of work, kids, and life has left me completely overwhelmed.
As if that’s not enough, it’s Thursday. Thursdays mean my ex, who still hasn’t found a place to live and is staying an hour away at his sister’s, comes over to “visit” the kids. I say that loosely because most of his time is spent pestering me rather than actually being present with them.
But I’m not heartless.
The kids want to see their dad.
So, I do what I need to do to cope.
I get comfortably stoned, letting everything else fade into the background.
Tonight, after my usual nightly toke, I came back in prepared to grin and bear the evening until I could escape to my room, pretending to be asleep. But then something shifted. My little one started dancing, and for half an hour, I just sat there, completely mesmerized. All the stress melted away—or maybe I was just too stoned to care. Either way, for a moment, it was just me and my child, and nothing else mattered.
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