Today I got to watch my only grandchild celebrate his first birthday. He is far away but Skype gave me the opportunity to see him squish, squash, fingerpaint and smear his way through chocolate frosting on a vanilla cupcake.
This was greeted with much smiling, laughter and photographs.
I got to watch him enjoy the bath time water therapy of warm water sluicing away the sugar and his embracing nakedness in all its tiny glory.
Ending the call, I was left with a warm, sweet sense of hope and appreciation.
Then I attempted to do something in the kitchen. That was my first mistake.
I moved the dishes in the refrigerator and upended a pan of apricot honey glazed chicken pieces. The glaze dripped onto the refrigerator, poured down the front of my clothing and stuck to my bare feet. The kitchen floor had sweet and sticky drippings across the middle and the path from the refrigerator to the sink and the garbage.
This was followed by massive helpings of Windex, Ajax, and hot water. I huffed and puffed my way on my hands and knees to clean the floor with paper towels. My clothing had to be removed too and rolled into a sticky heap. Hopping into the shower, I needed to get the stickiness off of me quickly. I am exhausted! No, I have not run a marathon, nor climbed mountains. It was not the kind of gooey fun being in the sweet stuff rather than watching it.
Depression saps all of my energy and leaves me just enough to appreciate while not necessarily get out of the house. Frustration really ought to count as aerobic exercise.