Yesterday morning, 11 am.
A pressure cooker full of vegetables and dal steams away shrilly in the kitchen; on a nearby bench lies a mass of coriander and methi leaves yet to be cleaned and sorted; beyond that, in the sink are dirty dishes, needing to be washed; the child sits on the floor in the adjoining room, tinkering with his mechanical set--toys scattered in a circle around him. Of course, he is blissfully oblivious to the line of books he has knocked over, in a corner.
I have not breakfasted yet. (Little man has, thankfully, else he would have been starving by now). Nor started cooking, let alone made any sort of effort at cleaning (my cook/maid played truant again, the third time this month, sigh).
Then I hear a couple of familiar 'pings' on my 'phone and before you can say, "what a mess", there I am checking Facebook. I had posted a couple of photos of said child and my friends are loving the photos. I am gratified, naturally. And say so in my replies to their comments on FB.
Yesterday afternoon, 2 pm.
I've had a mini meltdown, shouted at the son, whacked him, said terrible things to him. Now I feel like a total monster, a total fraud.
No, I've not posted that on FB.
Sometimes, I find it easier to post about my life on FB than actually, really 'live' it fully, meaningfully, happily. There's a learning in that, for me, somewhere.