It’s the end of February. We’re nearly into my least favorite month (apologies to all the lovely people who were born in that 3rd month of the calendar year). I have always disliked March. It has to do with only one thing: winter. needs. to. end. now. I don’t have much to complain about: I chose to stay living in New England this long and part of the reason is because I do love the four seasons. I especially don’t have much to complain about this year when we didn’t see real snow build up and multiply until after the new year. I was doing just fine- moving along at a steady winter clip- and then something happened. I had that panicky feeling (this happens every year, why it still surprises me is just ludicrous) where I feel like I’m falling down a rabbit hole and cannot seem to psychically remember what spring or summer feels like (help! I’ve been consumed by Winter!). I got seriously sick of the cold, the grey… and then I realized I was upon that beast: March.
So why am I rambling about this anyways? I am rambling about this because I have a mild case of cabin fever that is also not helping stir my creative juices. I have a nearly three year old that needs to be walked, people. Add to all of this that my work has been busy- super busy- with being under-staffed until we hire a new counselor, and it makes for one tired brain.
So instead of me coming up with something from scratch, I’m sharing with you one of my all-time favorite blog posts about queer, non-gestational (and gestational) parenthood. It’s poignant, nuanced, and honest. Just the way I like it. I hope you do too.
Happy March eve folks,