It has been raining the last 3 days in Chicago. Peej is cranky, as this means that she’s stuck inside. I don’t blame her, I’m cranky, too. At least yesterday there were breaks in the weather when British Ex Husband could take her out to stomp in puddles at the non-crowded park.
There is a park near the beach where -past noon- people do not social distance appropriately. There are stupid moms with no masks that let their germ ridden crotchfruit play on the closed playground. Then those non-masked moms let their crotchfruit run up to little 2 year olds, (who are being socially distanced appropriately by their masked parents,) to wipe their gross germs all over that little 2 year old.
While we’re at it, teenagers, stop social grouping with more than 10 people and without masks on the bike path! You are walking germ factory and it’s really flipping hard to run with you blocking the path, not to mention running with a n95 is hell.
Do you all want Lori Lightfoot to come shut the park down again?
Then there is the other park where there is no playground that is constantly deserted. While that park is fun when there are mud puddles, otherwise it’s just a big field to run around in… which has its allure to a 2 year old, but gets old fast.
All Peej wants is to go to the beach. I’m with her on that, Momma needs a tan.
(Actually, Momma is turning into one giant freckle, so maybe some SPF 50 is in order?)
See, I’m cranky, too.
Today after the great crayon tantrum of 10am and the food throwing contest of 11am, we (the human parent and her dog assistant) have resorted to popping the revolutionary 2 year old into her crib with an iPad and letting her watch as much YouTube Kids as she wants to.
It’s days like today when having a “Rosé Yay, All Day” with some girlfriends seems like a great option. Instead, at Day 178 sober, I’m slurping down Diet Coke and bitching on this blog.
As I was telling my date on Tuesday, I suppose I *could* drink without having a problem, but I’ve told myself so many times that I’m not going to drink and I’m not going to smoke weed, it’s the principle of the matter at this point. I made a promise to myself on December 31, 2019 that I was done with this shit. And, I don’t think a bad rainy day is a compelling reason to break that promise.
Fuck, if getting divorced isn’t a compelling reason, a bad, cranky day with your kid is not a good reason.
Sobriety is not a challenge for me, thankfully. I don’t even like the taste of alcohol anymore. It tastes yucky. I do miss the occasional buzz. But, the buzz is what causes trouble in the first place – as once I have a buzz, my internal “don’t drink more” switch gets stuck on off, and I over consume. Binge drinking is alcoholism just as much as drinking every day and not being able to control it. What can I say? Doing the personal inventory involved with becoming sober and staying sober is a daily process. And, I suppose admitting when I feel a desire to have a drink (like when trapped in the house with a cranky ass baby) is as important as the promise I have made to myself not to drink.
So much has happened in that time. Divorce, trying to work through our issues, COVID-19, quarantine, deciding again it’s not going to work and separating, being 100% broke because I am a stay-at-home mom, spending a month at my parent’s house, coming back to Chicago in the middle of protests and riots… This is a weird, awful time in my world.
But, it would improve so much if it would just not rain, get sunny, and Peej and I could go to the beach. Or, if I could go for a run (not in a thunderstorm.)
Seriously, not kidding. Fuck off with this rain.