March is hitting Smartmom like a ton of potatoes. Maybe the fun of February has her feeling disappointed now that everyone has gone home.
It's the February blahs transposed onto March. Yeah that's the ticket. They can't be avoided, can't be missed. February's blahness is important, it's cathartic, it's essential.
And Smartmom didn't have "the February blahs" this year, what with The Gates, the guests, and all that. There was just too much to do and good weather.
Monday's snowstorm, despite the beauty of it, made her feel tired of winter - the way she usually feels in February. And in a more general way, she's weary and worried: about her children, her career, her husband, money, taxes, health. She's hearing sad stories - about illness, death, difficulties in the lives of strangers and friends. There's something in the air. She wants to close her ears and say, "Stop" to her friends with their stories. But that's like saying "Stop" to life as it happens.
Smartmom is feeling those free-floating blahs that she hasn't felt in a while now. Lugging her anxiety suitcase, she's moving blahfully through these first days of March. Feeling tired and alone.
February's eupohoria was real. She thinks. It seems so long ago now. There's one of Christo's orange fabric swatches on the dining room table - a reminder of carefree days with friends and family. She holds it in her hands to remember the frivolity of those walks in the Park. Was that just Saturday?
It had to happen. These blahs. They're to be expected, needed, necessary. Yes.
So maybe everything will be a month off now. The usual hopefulness of March will be in April, the springyness of April will be in May...etc.
Smartmom is on seasonal delay. And that's why she's feeling so lousy.