My only big idea this week was to take the girls shopping for pretty much everything. We went shopping three days in a row, which is pretty much unheard of for me as I find it exhausting. The girls got everything from new books to shoes to Lego to Easter outfits to lotions, paint, summer clothes, and jewelry. Me? I got nothing, but that's just fine, as shopping for myself with both girls in tow is worse than the worse torture ever.
Eloise reads me her new book
I wish we could have done something more interesting, or seen more friends, or anything, but for some reason my exhaustion and grief made me delirious enough to think that shopping was the best option. My husband, god bless him, didn't say a single negative word about the drain to the bank account. He is not a material guy at all so he probably does not understand why his three favorite girls would engage in such an activity, but he was okay with it. At least outwardly.
This week basically has seen roughly 1 hour of workouts. That includes running. Not having a break from the girls means I can't get my workouts in at my usual times, and I am a serious creature of habit. I am not complaining, though it sounds like I am, because to be honest the last thing I feel like doing this week is any sort of exercise. I forced myself to go to the gym last night, and I am not sure I've ever wanted to workout less in my entire life. I randomly chose to do 10 minutes of elliptical before doing some strength stuff with the bosu ball. I was in and out of the gym in 25 minutes. You know how you hear "oh, just do the workout and you will be so glad you did when you are done!" Well, I didn't. I felt just as, well, blah, afterwards as I did before.
The new fun thing is that my occasionally achy left foot is now more my constantly achy left foot. I am more afraid than ever that my good friend Second Metatarsal Stress Fracture (SMSF for short) is back for a visit. I am doing what any good little overwhelmed runner would do, which is mostly ignoring it.
Grieving is coming in waves in our house. In the interest of privacy, I won't go too much more in to it, but holy cow, being a parent is hard sometimes. Inky is very, very much missed. And usually the greatest bursts of sadness come over missing something so small, like this morning I couldn't stop thinking about his funny tail. As a Manx, his tail was about two inches long, but if you felt along it, there was a big bump in the middle and a little hook at the end. It was so funny.
I feel like the worst human being in the world by admitting I am super anxious to get a new kitten. Not at all to replace our Inky, although he/she sort of will, but more because I am so darn excited for Opal to have a friend. Opal is going to meet some other cats this weekend to see how she interacts with them and hopefully give us a clue as to what kind of cat might be a good match for her. Cross your fingers she plays nice! She had never been anything but loving and playful to Inky, but I know that's different than meeting strange cats at now six months of age and bonding with them.