Yesterday I was excited to bake for the first time since Christmas, which was 5 days before Teddy died. I got this mix from the store so as not to complicate my life too much, and the funfetti frosting. I got a bag and tips to pipe the frosting, which I have never done before. I actually don't think I have ever made cupcakes because I don't really like them, but they were for Logan's daycare birthday party, so I wanted to do something special.
I made the mixture, filled the little paper cups, and checked my shitty oven to make sure the temperature was right. We have had lots of problems with it in the past, it tends to run really hot and burn things on the bottom. I had forgotten just how bad it was. I always put the temperature lower than it calls for because of this. So I took a deep breath and popped them in. I stood in the kitchen during the bake time because I was worried they would burn. As soon as I started to smell it I knew it was too late. When I opened the oven the temperature was at 450, and I had it set at 325. They were all burned on the bottom and gooey in the middle. DAMN!!
I got unreasonably angry. I just wanted to do this one thing for my kid! I was cursing out our rental company because we had wanted to replace our oven months ago because of this problem but they refused because it was supposedly recently replaced. I know for a fact that this apartment was empty for about a year before we moved in, so that's just total bullshit. I had planned to call the company today, but I just had no energy. I couldn't even clean the toys up off the floor...
We went to my brother-in-law's last night for dinner to see the family, my sister-in-law and her husband were up from Florida for a visit. I was hoping that by the time I got home the cupcakes would be magically better, but just in case, we bought some cupcakes from Stop & Shop. The cupcakes were like hard little hockey pucks. I was so mad. So I put sprinkles on the store-bought ones and put them in the cute little boxes I had bought from the dollar store. Blah. But you know what? Those kids didn't care! They gobbled them up without a care in the world. And this weekend, on his actual birthday, we will have a beautiful cake from a patisierre that will be so yummy and cute.
But anyway, this was all a long way to say that I used to cook and bake all the time. When I was pregnant with Logan my consumption of cookies was problematic. And since it was Covid, my husband and I got very adventurous. Biscuits, bread, cheesecake, cakes, you name it! We also loved getting Hello Fresh and making ridiculously complicated small meals. We learned a lot of fun techniques, and cooked almost every night.
Since Teddy died I have had no desire to do any of that. I cooked pork chops the other day and was like, "that wasn't so hard!" It was kind of surreal. And then baking just a few days later? Wild! I was talking about this with my therapist the other day, and I think I was really trying to figure out the why. Why don't I like eating anymore? Why can't I bring myself to cook or bake or do something special for my family? We always used to do pancakes on the weekends- cook a huge breakfast and just have fun eating and hanging out. But now it just feels empty. Even though I still want to make life fun for my Logan, I just can't do this part. My therapist reassured me that there doesn't need to be a reason. Sometimes we just change, and things don't feel as good as they used to.
I also LOVED working out, and especially running, HIIT training, and yoga. I ran 2 marathons when I lived in LA, and multiple races since living in NYC, but then my hip really took a turn about 7 months after Logan was born so I just didn't run until a few months ago. I have done like 2 runs, but I have been walking a lot more. It used to be something I would wake up and jump out the door, or put on my workout videos and just kick ass and have fun getting fit and staying fit. And now I just have nothing. There have been a few days where I have been able to do a workout, but I don't even have the capacity to force myself to put on my shoes :( Honestly, I am the most out of shape now that I have ever been, and I just don't care. And I hate not caring. I guess I just have to be patient with myself and do what I can when I can.
I have been so sad lately. So deep in my depression even though I just upped my anti-depressant. Paul is in the same boat. It's just exhausting to be constantly so sad, and there is nothing that will fix that. I don't have my beautiful boy here on this earth anymore and all I want is to see his little smiling face, hear his laugh, kiss his head, run my hands through his hair, change his stinky diapers, hold him when he cries, hold his hand as we walk along. FUCK ALL THIS!!! Why did it have to be Teddy?? Why is every day a living nightmare?
I watch this show, "Evil Lives Here" about evil people who do awful things. Also my podcast "Anatomy of Murder" and I just keep thinking, "Why couldn't it be one of these horrible people who hurt others who died? Lives could have been saved if they had died and Teddy had lived." But that's just not how it works. Plus it is oddly comforting listening to stories about people who have also lost someone so important to them. My therapist told me that she looked up the listening preferences of the listeners of her podcast, and by far and away, true crime was the most popular genre. So interesting! I love my murder podcasts. I am coming up to the end of the past episodes I haven't listened to, and I honestly have no idea what I will do when I finish it! Then it's just one episode a week, and I need more! Anyone have any suggestions?
This is very long and rambling, so if you've made it this far you get a gold star! Also some cute pictures of Logan's party from today, my burned cupcakes, and a bonus picture of Teddy 🥰
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