Winter break(ing point)
It started when I slipped on the ice. Yesterday morning, as I rushed to get my kid, my geriatric dog who had recently surgery on his front leg, and all of our bags and accoutrements into the car for a trip to the vet to check on Harry’s leg, I lost my balance on a patch of ice by my front door.
I hit the ground hard. In hindsight, it was probably a comical sight to behold, had there been spectators — a cartoonish scene where my feet literally flew out from under me, bicycling in the air as I careened backward onto the icy ground, landing on my bad arm. It hurt like hell, but I was already running slightly late for our vet appointment. What was the first thing I did after I landed? I stood up and grabbed the bag of rock salt, shaking a hefty fistful onto the icy path that had been my demise moments earlier. I didn’t want my dog or daughter to slip. I literally did not even have time to assess the damage to my own body before I was taking care of the path for someone else. Then, it was immediately back into the house to pick up Harry, corral Penelope, and get in the car to drive to the vet.
Sitting in the waiting room, with Harry escorted around back by a vet tech, I finally had the chance to breathe and check in. My arm really hurt. Tears had been streaming down my face the entire drive. I’ve broken my left arm before and it wasn’t quite that level of pain, but it was pretty uncomfortable.
I looked at my phone. A friend had texted while I was driving over: “How’s Harry?”
I wrote her back with a quick explanation of the situation: we’d spent the previous night at the emergency vet having them evaluate Harry’s leg and paw, and were now back at the normal vet for his regularly scheduled appointment. I hoped I’d know more about his healing leg soon. But, perhaps just as urgently, I’d fallen on ice and needed to get to the doctor, possibly to get an X-ray, sometime today. With my wife out of town, I was home alone with my kid and my dog, the latter of whom needed near constant supervision to keep from jumping on a couch or licking his wound. Could I drop Penelope off with her so I could go to the doctor? I asked.
“Sure,” she replied.
Then, a moment later: “Nevermind. My kid just threw up.”
*
It’s been like this lately. Every mother I know is at their breaking point. This month, everyone in my county had their scheduled winter break unexpectedly extended by 50%, every working parent’s dream! Thanks, new year winter storm! January has pounded us with snow and ice that subsequently WILL. NOT. MELT. It’s grey and dreary, day in and day out. Between the frigid temps and more indoor “family” time than anyone planned on having, all the working parents I know are at their breaking point. I’m right there with them.
In the three weeks since 2025 arrived, in my own household alone, we’ve dealt with: the fun parasitic infection that is pinworms (my kid had it) and fake-banana-flavored treatments for the whole family, as well as the extensive laundry involved — we had to wash every single textile in the house, which amounted to 10-12 loads — a full day dedicated to moving laundry through the cycle; a nasty upper and lower respiratory infection that coincided with the first week of my new job as the Director of Marketing and Communications for I AM ALS; a healing knee injury (and now a fresh arm injury) that requires PT; an elderly dog who had surgery to remove a fatty mass (it was totally benign, thank god) and whose recovery has been hella complicated — he now requires nearly constant supervision, a cone of shame, and has needed daily trips to the vet.
I know I’m not alone in feeling underwater and/or barely keeping my head above said water at times. But damn it’s hard when you’re drowning to see the other victims out there in the water with you.
How I know I’m not alone:
A text from another friend came in yesterday:
Another week here and B just woke up w a terrible cough, I think I need to take him to urgent care bc heaven forbid our actual doc would have an appt available for him.
Work wise I’m stressed like a mo fo. Have an article due fri that I got dragged into (stupid story) along w all my other shit to take care of…
A few days ago, I got a voice memo from a friend whose five-year-old was upstairs having a colossal meltdown about not wanting to wear a coat outside. (You can’t go outside without a coat in these temps.)
Other friends texted about the inauguration yesterday, offering words of encouragement and light on what was a dark day for our nation.
Everyone I speak with — most especially working moms — is about to lose their shit.
I consider myself very fortunate — I have a big safety net of support. My wife is a huge support (when she’s not out of town, which she was this past weekend during the major shit show that included my icy fall and Harry’s precarious recovery). My mom lives in my neighborhood and is also a huge support that loves spending time with her granddaughter and helping me in any way she can. My ex-husband and his wife are always supportive of all our extended family needs — yesterday, when I needed to go to the doctor to look at my arm, he came home from work early so I could drop our kid off and visit the doctor without her in tow. He then kept Penelope for several hours at his house, offering me time to eat lunch in silence, take a shower, dry my hair, and then sit down on the floor by myself and cry. I have friends and neighbors that I can call on almost anytime I need something. (If I can summon the ability to ask for help, that is… wow, that struggle is real.)
As per usual, I have lots of complaints, pointing out problems, acknowledging broken systems, but I do not have a lot of solutions.
Our country’s system for supporting families is deeply flawed. We don’t have enough paid time off nor the flexibility we need to care for the loved ones who need us in the generations above and below us. We work as hard and as much as we can — 40-50-60+ hours a week — to pay for a life that we then barely have time to enjoy.
Our health care system is BROKEN. This country’s largest insurance companies are 100% more concerned with pocketing massive profits than they are with people being well and cared for on their watch. The person who murdered a healthcare CEO has become a national hero. Don’t get me started on gun violence — it infuriates me that we live in a country where TikTok is banned before AK47s. And, even more concerning is that people seem more vocally outraged and distraught by the TikTok ban than they are about gun violence being the top killer of our children and teens.
As the new president is ushered in by the majority of U.S. Citizens that elected him, it’s clear that the assault on women and families will only continue. Our ability to succeed, celebrate and enjoy freedoms, and create families that look the way we want them to look is in jeopardy.
With a lack of widespread, long-term solutions, so I’m doubling down on my specific community and gratitude. There is so much to be grateful for today. For one, after icing and NSAID-ing a bunch yesterday, my arm does feel better. My wife got home last night and her help with the kiddo and dog is the biggest relief (plus I’m just happy to see her). My kiddo is safe and well, back at school today. I meditate daily to connect to this present moment and all that is possible now. I’ve found power in releasing the need to relive the past or know what’s coming in the future by just getting present with my breath. One inhale and exhale at a time.
My community is vast, loving, and present. Not a day goes by that I don’t get a text from someone checking on me in a general or specific way. As I said, I have family and loved ones who can help me with childcare. I co-parent (one week on, one week off), which is a blessing and a curse — it’s time away from my kiddo and it’s time away from my kiddo. When she’s with me, she’s pretty easy — my child is not special-needs and is getting more self-sufficient and independent everyday. My home has everything I could ever want or need.
And yet, days like yesterday happen. Days when I have to sit down on the floor, on the stairs, in the passenger seat of the car, just to cry. I snapped at my kid so many times that I made her cry. I was under water yesterday and there was no one to help. There will be more days like yesterday. I just had to put one foot in front of the other. I cried when I had to, I apologized when I needed to, I accepted help when it was offered. I ended the night snuggled in bed next to Penelope, looking in her eyes and telling her I was sorry for not being my best self all day. I told her I’d try again tomorrow.
I woke up this morning and returned to gratitude. I’m grateful to get the chance to try again today. And I’m reminded that winter won’t last forever.