I'm supposed to hide easter baskets and stuff. My kids are old--my baby is 16.
When I say, "shouldn't we not do this any more?" They howl.
And then they say, "well, okay, Mom, if you're tired of it, it's fine. We don't have to." And then I howl.
But this might be the last year. Who knows? Mike got eggs, boiled them and now someone ought to dye those things. No one is jumping up and down and volunteering, however. I used to love doing that stuff. Now? Eh.
I lost a huge chunk of motivation lately when it comes to the details of living and no one's pushing me to "fake it until it's real" so I don't. Little kids push and push and push.
No one really counts on me anymore, which is a mixed blessing. The word "blessing" isn't entirely wrong, not at all.