A New Rule

Caretaking for a toddler seems like an endless stream of diarrhea, snot, and vomit. The Instagram mom-fluencers and dad-fluencers would have you believe that its more about the precious moments (™ pending) while they are pursuing their dream lives. Sure, that’s part of it, but its not the whole story. I am here to tell you, back from the endless void of cleaning vomit out of ever cranny of the origami folds of the carseat, that I resolutely hate people who profit off of the light of parenthood without also sharing the darkness. I am not playing either. There is a certain level of deranged you get after doing battle with the detritus of norovirus for hours on end and working full time that makes it impossible for you to deal with bullshit.

With all that said, I have a new rule. If someone in this house has vomited, has diarrhea, or some other unimaginable malady with profusions of any sort, I just am going to write a short essay for the week or skip that week. I gotta give myself some space here while also trying to maintain my discipline to this project. I could expound on how rest is resistance and cite the excellent work of others who have already made this point, cue reference to Tricia Hersey’s Rest is Resistance, but I am just tired y’all.

Be Well,

James

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