I am Glue
I love adhesives. I even like the word adhesive. If I could outfit an art studio I'd really only want school supplies. Paper, scissors, glue. I love glue. It takes something flimsy and makes it sturdy. It takes two things and makes them one. Adhere something. It will make you feel better. It is therapeutic.
Sometimes I feel as though I am glue. Around here, the mom makes things stick. When I am not doing my job, things tend to be flimsy and unstuck. I would like to say that I am a rich, deep yellow wood glue. There is nothing more beautiful and reliable. But lately, I am a glue stick that is almost gone and has had the lid left off for a while. Nothing is more frustrating. You need to stick something together. You reach for your glue stick. It is partially dried up and almost gone. You try to make it work. And it's just not enough.
Now into my final trimester of this my fifth pregnancy I am a sad, sad, glue stick around the house. I have a hard time bending over. I don't like to stand for long periods of time. I have a small amount of pain all the time, thus making me grumpy and short-tempered. I am trying to be positive. I want to be glossy modge podge. Making everything shine and coating everything with an addictive smelling odor everyone loves. But I am nothing sticky. I am feeling used up and the house is suffering the consequences.
I want to write a blog about how wonderfully cute and precious and excellent life is. And when I choose to focus on that, I can. And it is. But when I lie in bed at night I think about glue. How I love it. I love being the glue. But I've run out and I'm not going to be able to make it to the store to replenish my supply until after this baby comes out. Then, I'm going to get much stickier again. I will move past this unsticky season. Until then, I'll squeeze out what gluey-ness I have left and try to be thankful I can still make some things stick. And when I get down, I'll get out the Elmer's and give it a squeeze. Because I love adhesives.